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1 


"^Cf^lclj    ^^Oi." 


# 


THB 


"SCRATCH  CLUB" 


By  H.  a.  Clarke,  Mus.  Doc. 

St 

Professor  of  Music,  University  of  Pennsylvania. 


u 


'K  .:j<\ 


THE   POET-LORE    COMPANY, 
223  South  38TH  Street, 

PHII^ADELPHIA. 


^2*4.,  iuw  a 


Copyright,  1889,  by  H.  A.  CLARKR. 


t\LGO  ^^.| 


_  1 
IV 


\ 


H.  A.  CLARKR. 


To  C.  E.  CLAGHORN,  Esq., 

Dear  Sir :  Y'oii  arc  in  a  measure  responsible  for  this 
book,  mucli  of  wliicii  lias  groivnfrom  a  suggestion  of  yours, 
I  have  ilierefore  taken  tite  liberty  of  inscribing  your  name  at 
t/ie  liead  of  it,  in  aeknoxctcdgmcnt  not  onJy  of  tliis — but  of 
many  kindnesses.  It  also  seemed  to  ine  appropriate,  tliat  a 
book  leliieh  is  in  some  degree  a  re  licet  ion  of  "  professional'^ 
opinions  on  musical  matters,  should  bear  the  name  of  an 
amateur  so  ivell  known  to  be  in  hearty  sympathy  ~a'ith  all 
that  is  best  in  the  Art  of  Music. 

Yours  Sincerely, 

H.  A.  CLARKE. 


CONTBNTS. 

Introduction^ 7 

FIRST  KVKNING. 

Discussion  on  Organ  Music  and  Fugues 9 

vSECOND  KVENING. 
The  rower  of   Music   for    Expression.      Crabbe  and  Parks 

Analyze  the  "  Aurora"  Sonata '^ 

THIRD  KVENING. 
Discussion  of  Church  Jlusio,  and  Music  in  the  Public  Schools,     20 

FOURTH  EVENING. 
Dr.  Goodman  Reads  an  Old  Sermon, 27 

FIFTH  EVENING. 
The  Relative  Merits  of  Vocal  and  Instrumental  Music,     ...      34 

vSIXTH  EVENING. 
Musical  Prejudices 4° 

SEVENTH  EVENING. 

Crabbe  Reads  a  Translation  of  an  Egyptian  Papyrus 45 

EIGHTH  EVENING. 
Acoustics  and  Music.    Crabbe  Announces  His  Discovery  of  a 

Theory  of  Color  Harmony, 52 

NINTH  EVEN'ING. 

More  Discussion  on  Vocal  and  Instrumental  Music, 59 

(5  ) 


I     ; 


6  The  "Scratch  CIk/k" 

TKNTII  I'VKNING. 

Hazel  Reada  an  Allegory, (,» 

EI.EVKNTII  KVIvNING. 

Opera — Acting,  and  Rlusic 75 

t\vi-:li-th  kvkning. 

Herr  Scbuabel  Enliven*  the  rroceedinxs 80 

THIRTI-KNTH  KVKNING. 

Discussion  on  Musical  Memory— Dr.  Coodman  Tells  a  Story— 

Crabbe  Tells  Another, 84 

FOURTKKNTII  ICVKNl NG. 
An   Attack  on   Tenth  rate   Musicians,  and  a   Rhapsody  on 

Genius  by  Crabbe qq 

FIFTKKNTH  K\'KN1NG. 
Parks  Astonishes  the  Club  with  a  Satirical  Poem 106 

vSrxTEKNTH  KVKNING. 
Mr.  Bullyer  and  Parks'  Friend,  "  Fred,"  Air  their  Views,     .    .    in 

SEVKNTKKNTII  EVENING. 

Dallon  Reads  a  Strange  Story, 115 

KIGHTKRNTH  KVKNING. 
A  Discussion  on  General  Musical  Taste,  and  on  International 

Copyright 123 

NINKTEENTH   EVENING. 
Dr.  Goodman  Tells  a  Story  about  a  Stradivarius  Violin,  ...    133 


INTKODIICTION. 


lis  a  Story — 


hapsody  on 


64 


75 


80 


84 


99 


106 


^iews,     .   .    in 


116 


iternational 


12? 


olin,  ...    133 


IT  has  bfcii  tny  privileKc,  durint;  the  past  winter,  to  be  admitted 
as  a  listeui'r,  at  the  meetings  of  certain  of  my  musical  friends, 
at  which  they  (k  vote  themselves  to  the  playing— <>r,  as  Ihcy  call  it, 
the  "scratchiuK" -of  iiuarti-ltes,  (luintet.s,  and  like  compositions 
of  the  best  writers.  I  am  one  of  that  uumerous  class  who,  while 
possessed  of  no  musical  knowledge,  and  (my  professional  friends 
mii;ht  say)  very  little  nnisicnl  taste,  yet.  can  extract  a  j^reat  <leal 
ol"  pleasure  from  heariuj;  my  frienils'  performance.  Rut  my  chief 
reason  for  attending  so  assiduously  at  their  reunions  is,  that,  being 
of  a  somewhat  philosophical  turn,  I  lierive  a  great  deal  of  instruc- 
tion and  amusement,  from  the  discussion  of  subjects  connected  with 
their  art,  with  which  they  always  finish  the  evening,  with  the  ac- 
companiment of  ft  cigar  and  a  modest  glass  or  two  of  beer.  It  oc 
casionally  happens,  in  accordance  with  an  understanding  they  have, 
that,  one  of  their  number  will  read  an  essay  on  sorae  musical  sub- 
ject. They  allow  themselves  large  latitude  in  the  interpretation 
of  this  understanding,  admitting  villingly  anything— sketch,  story, 
or  what  not,  provided  only  that  its  subject  is,  in  some  way,  con- 
nected with  music.  These  gentlemen,  although  all  professional 
musicians  of  acknowledged  ability,  and  high  standing,  are  yet, 
only  amateurs  on  string  instruments  ;  still,  their  large  musical  ex- 
perience and  knowledge  enable  them  to  play  with  a  thorough  un- 
derstanding of  the  requirements  of  this  kind  of  music,  that  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  mere  amateurs  of  the  art.  The  first  violin — 
]\Ir.  Dalton— a  pianist  of  some  repute,  is  a  middle-aged  gentleman, 
an  uncompromising  admirer  of  the  classical  C,erman  school.  The 
second  violin — Mr.  Parks— teaches  singing,  is  possessed  of  a  very 
good  tenor  voice,  and  has  a  strong  leaning  towards  the  "  Italian 
Opera"  school  of  music,  for  which  leaning  he  is  sometimes  rather 
rudely  snubbed  by  his  older  companions.  lie  is  the  youngest  of 
the  party.    The  viola  (or  Tenor  as  musicians  love  to  call  it;,  Mr, 


V-. 


8 


The  "  Scratch  Club:' 


Crabbe— is  somewhat  of  an  original.  He  is  past  the  prime  c*^  life, 
indeed,  might  be  called  an  old  man — has  travelled  extensively,  i.s 
familiar  w  ith  all  musical  "schools  " — and  an  admirer,  without  fear 
or  favor,  of  what  commends  itself  to  him  as  "  good  music  "  in  all. 
He  is  apt  at  limes,  to  be  rather  severe  on  those  who  are  not  gifted 
with  a  like  Catholicity,  and  will  at  times  give  vent  to  the  most 
outrageous  and  heterodox  opinions,  greatly  to  the  exasj.eration  of 
the  first  violin,  and  of  the  violoncello.  This  last  gentleman— Mr. 
Hazel— is  an  Englishman.  All  of  his  enthusiasm  is  bestowed  on 
Handel.  He  compares  all  musicians  with  him,  and  all  suffer  by 
the  comparison.  In  short,  he  has  that  profound  reverence,  for 
Handel  that  is  characteristic  of  nearly  all  English— men  and 
musicians. 

The  discussions  are  often  enlivened  by  the  occasional  presence 
of  others,  some  players,  some,  like  myself,  only  hearers  ;  notably 
by  the  presence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Goodman,  an  Episcopal 
clergyman,  with  an  enthusiasm  for  good  music,  and  a  grea.  love 
for  a  lively  discussion.  Although  totally  ignorant  of  music,  his 
native  shrewdness  and  trained  reasoning  powers  make  his  remarks 
always  worthy  of  attention,  while  his  exceeding  good  nature  and 
his  polite  deference  to  the  opiniona  of  the  "«xperts"  have 
endeared  him  to  the  quartet,  which  never  seems  quite  itself  when 
his  genial,  kindly  face  is  absent. 

As  to  myself,  I  never  join  in  the  talk,  preferring  not  to  expose 
my  ignorance  to  the  scorn  of  the  first  violin,  or  the  sarcasm  of  tiie 
viola.  My  share  has  been  to  make  mental  notes  of  the  conversa- 
tions, which  I  have  attempted  to  reproduce,  not  without  first 
obtaining  the  permission  of  my  friends,  for  what  looks  somewhat 
like  a  breach  of  the  rules  of  hospitality.  I  only  gained  their 
consent  by  representing  to  them  that  the  music-loving  public  might 
gain  something  by  getting  a  glimpse  of  the  way  in  which  musicians 
talk  about  music.  With  this  introduction,  I  will  retire  to  my  place 
as  a  listener,  and  let  my  friends  speak  for  themselves. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


le  prime  o''  life, 
I  extensively,  i.s 
rer,  without  fear 
1  music  "  in  all. 
o  are  not  gifted 
Mit  to  the  most 
exasi.eratiou  of 
jenlleman — Mr. 
is  bestowed  on 
id  all  suffer  by 
'  reverence,  for 
^lish — men  and 

sional  presence 
earers  ;  notably 
an  Episcopal 
lid  a  grea.  love 
It  of  music,  his 
ake  liis  remarks 
jood  nature  and 
«xperts  "  have 
lite  itself  when 

;  not  to  expose 
sarcasm  of  the 
f  the  conversa- 
it  without  first 
ooks  somewhat 
y  gained  their 
ig  public  might 
chich  musicians 
ire  to  my  place 
es. 
AUTHOR. 


FIRST  EVENING. 
Discussion  on  Organ  Music  and  Fugues. 

CHlv  fiddles  are  put  away,  the  cigars  lighted,  and  the 
beer  glasses  filled.  The  talk  .soon  falls  into  its  usual 
channel.  After  some  desultory  remarks,  critical  and  com- 
mendatory, on  a  recent  organ  concert,  in  which  our  Kng- 
lish  friend,  who  is,  liy  the  way,  a  first-rate  organist,  took 
part,  the  clergyman,  backed  by  Violoncello,  waxed  en- 
thusiastic on  the  subject  of  organ-playing,  lauding  it  as 
superior  to  all  other  instrumental  nuisic,  and  .so  on.  This 
brought  out  Viola,  and  the  following  conversation  en- 
sued : 

Crabbe.  Oh, well, organ-playing  is  doubtless  a  very  clever 
thing,  and  a  very  difficult  thing  to  do  well,  but,  after  all, 
it  is  nothing  but  good  machinery  ;  a  machine  would  do 
it  not  only  as  well  as,  but  better  than  the  best  organi.st. 
With  all  other  instruments  the  case  is  quite  different. 
They  all  respond  more  or  less  to  the  mood  of  the  player  ; 
the  skilful  u.se  of  the  bow,  the  touch,  the  breath,  produce 
infinite  varieties  and  .shades  of  expression,  but  on  the 
organ  you  can  but  put  down  the  key  and  the  pipe  will 
.sound,  and  et-ery  sound  is  just  the  same  in  force  and 
quality  as  e\ery  other  one  on  the  same  stop,  barring  the 
slight  difference  produced  by  that  clumsy  contrivance 
you  call  a  "swell."  In  short,  the  organ  has  no  expres- 
sion. 

Dal  ton.  I  know  but  little  a])out  the  organ,  but  it  strikes 
me  that  must  be  the  reason  why  tiie  movements  from 

(?) 


lO 


The  "  Scratch  Club" 


symphonies  and  sonatas  that  organists  so  often  play  are  bO 
unsatisfactory  to  one  who  is  familiar  with  their  effect 
when  given  bj-  the  instruments  for  which  they  were  writ- 
ten. 

Crabbc.  Certainly  it  is  ;  these  things  depend  for  their 
effect  on  delicate  shading,  an  impossibility  or,  at  best,  a 
caricature  on  the  organ. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Won't  you  tell  us  what  you  think  the 
organ  is  good  for  ? 

Hazel.  To  play  organ  music  on.  Handel,  Bach,  Rink 
— that's  the  music  for  the  organ. 

Crabbc.  Then  why  do  you  organists  try  so  often  to 
make  it  sound  like  a  bad  orchestra,  or  woisj  brass  band  ? 

Hazel.  We  organists,  like  other  men,  must  .sometimes 
give  up  our  own  nations,  to  cator  to  t'.ie  taste,  cr  rather 
the  lack  of  taste,  of  those  who  p  ly  us  for  playing. 

Parks.  Won't  someljody  enlighten  me  as  t )  what  gor  d 
organ  music  reallj^  ought  to  be  ?  I  must  confes;  to  a  lik- 
ing for  the  things  Crabbe  and  Hazel  so  unsparingly  011- 
denui.  I  have  heard  some  of  the  melodies  from  the  Ital- 
ian opera — 

Crabbc.  Pshaw  !     Hercules  working  with  the  distaff. 

Parks.  Why  ?     I  don't  understand  you. 

Crabbe.  Never  mind,  just  now.  I  am  going  to  answer 
your  first  question.  Good  organ  music  is  of  two  kinds  : 
first,  the  even,  passionless  sounds  of  the  instrument  are 
admirably  suited  to  slow,  massive'  successions  of  chords  ; 
second,  to  the  tangled,  intricate  devices  of  contrapuntal 
writing,  particularly  fugues,  provided  they  are  not  p'ayecl 
too  fast,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case  \\ith  so  manj^  organists, 
who  seem  to  be  more  concerned  to  exhibit  their  dexterity 
than  to  produce  the  effect  intended  In'  the  composer. 

Hazel.  It  is  the  only  instrument  for  fugues. 

Dallon.  It  is  at  least  better  suited  to  fugues  than  the 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


II 


ifteii  play  are  t.o 
ith  their  effect 
:hey  were  writ- 

?pend  for  their 
y  or,  at  best,  a 

you  think  the 

iel,  Bach,  Rink 

ry  so  often  to 
'se  brass  l)and? 
lUst  soinetimcs 
taste,  (,r  rather 
playing. 
s  t )  wl:at  goc  d 
:onfesi  to  a  lik- 
ispnringly  con- 
s  from  the  Ital- 

h  the  distaff. 

jolng  to  answer 

of  two  kinds  : 

instrument  are 

ions  of  chords  ; 

Df  contrapuntal 

'  are  not  p'ayed 

nany  organists, 

their  dexterity 

composer. 

Lies. 

ugues  than  the 


orchestra  is.  I  could  never  find  any  pleasure  in  listening 
to  an  orchestral  fugue.  It  is  like  putting  Pegasus  to  work 
in  a  brick  machine,  to  tie  down  this  mighty  power  for 
expression  to  such  mechanical  work. 

Hazel.  I  think  you  go  too  far.  Won't  j-ou  make  an  ex- 
ception of,  say,  for  example,  the  overture  to  "Elijah"? 

Dal/on.  Well,  yes.  It  is  one  of  the  exceptions  that 
proves  the  rule — from  its  rarity.  It  is  truly  a  wonderful 
combination  of  a  formal  style,  with  the  expression  of  in- 
tense emotion. 

Crabbc.  Don't  you  think  that  the  form,  in  this  case, 
helps  the  expression  of  the  emotion  the  composer  wishes 
to  depict?  The  gathering  murmurs  of  the  hungry, 
thirsty,  wretched  people  are  easily  represented  by  the  re- 
curring themes  of  the  fugue,  and  the  increasing  volume 
of  sound  from  the  gradually  augmented  orchestra. 

Dalton.  Perhaps  you  are  right;  but  the  genius  of  the 
composer  is  shown  in  his  knowing  how  to  use  these  fac- 
tors to  the  best  advantage;  above  all,  by  the  restless,  ex- 
cited charav^ter  of  the  themes  he  has  chosen. 

Parks.  I  am  glad  for  one  to  hear  that  expression  of  any 
kind  can  be  got  out  of  a  fugue.  I  have  always  thought 
they  were  things  that  some  musicians  pretended  to  like, 
just  because  nobody  else  did;  and  it  gave  them  an  air  of 
superior  knowledge  or  taste,  or  whatever  it  may  be. 

Crabbe.  Ah  !  Parks  you  have  something  to  learn  yet ; 
the  opera  does  not  exhaust  the  possibilities  of  music. 
Have  we  not  actually  succeeded  in  making  you  enjoy 
quartets  !  Perhaps,  after  some  ages  of  transmigrations, 
you,  even  you,  may  come  to  find  some  beauty  in  a  fugue. 

Parks.  I  am  more  than  willing  to  wait — 

Crabbe.  Comfortable  in  the  belief  that  music  has  never 
produced  anything  grander  than  the  "Aria"  and  "  Caba- 
letta  "  of  your  favorite  authors. 


12 


The  "  Scratch  C/iil?." 


Dalion.  Crabhe,  you  always  seem  to  ignore  tl:e  fact 
that  there  are  other  Italian  writers  besides  the  opera- 
niaker.'^. 

Crabbc.  Who  arc  they  ?  since  Palestrina. 

J\jrks.   Why  !  Rossini,  \'erdi. 

(  rnbbr.   Olu\  jam  satis  ! 

/\ii/.-s.  Well,  I  ha\-e  heard  you  admit,  when  you  forgot 
to  he  ill  natured,  that  Rossini  had  genius  and  that  \'erdi 
had  made  some  great  advances. 

Crabbe.  Humph  !  a  bad'y  digested  meal  of  Wagnerism. 

Parks.  Oh.comenow  !  Didn't  vou  say  once  that  "Aida  " 
gave  promise  of  a  healthy  new  life  in  Italian  opera? 

Crabbc.   I  take  it  back;   I  have  given  up  prophesying. 

I  fa-el.   Don't  you  think  the  prospect  hopeful? 

Crablu\  Why:  from  "Aida"  to  "  Mephislofele ?     No. 

Dr.  (ioodnian.  We  l)egan  with  organ-playing  and — 

Crabbc.   Have  reached  the  devil. 

Dr.  Coodvia)!.  Hush!  don't  interrupt  me;  I  want  to  ask 
a  question.  Von  and  Hazel  say  that  the  organ  is  particu- 
larly suited  to  fugues  because  it  has  no  expression,  and 
yet  yoci  all  admit  or  imply  that  a  fugue  may  have  ex- 
pression. How  is  an  ignorant  layman  to  reconcile  these 
contradictions  ? 

Crabbc.  I  have  been  wondering,  Doctor,  what  made  you 
fall  into  a  brown  study  some  five  minutes  ago. 

Parks.  I  don't  .see  any  difficulty.  A  fugue  for  the  organ 
must  be  what  these  gentlemen  call  organ  music.  If  for 
other  instruments,  it  must  7wt  be  organ  music. 

Crabbe.  Profound  !  What  a  gift  it  is  to  be  able  to  go 
to  the  bottom  of  a  matter  like  that !  vSo  lucid,  too  ! 
Hasn't  he  let  a  flood  of  light  on  your  ignorance.  Doctor? 

ITa-cl.  Parks  is  not  so  far  out  as  you  pretend  to  think. 
As  a  rule,  the  fugue  is  less  a  matter  of  expression  than  of 
construction.     It  may  have  emotion,  it  must  have  a  car- 


ta 
tc 
n( 

m 

St 

oi 
ji 

St 

(Jl 
cc 
ca 
th 
I  I 
ha 

di: 
go 

th 
sii 

thi 
de 

th( 
tai 
wa 
rej 
( 
lit] 
tlu 

in^ 
toi 


The  "  Scratch  Clnhr 


13 


ire  tl:e  fact 
the  opera- 


1  you  forgot 
I  that  \'erdi 

Vagnerism. 

uifAida" 

opera  ? 

iphesying. 

il? 

"ele  ?     No. 

g  and— 

want  to  ask 
1  is  particu- 
■ession,  and 
ly  have  ex- 
ancile  these 

it  made  yon 

)r  the  organ 
sic.     If  for 

?  able  to  go 
hicid,  too ! 
ce,  Doctor? 
id  to  think. 
;ion  tlian  of 
have  a  cer- 


tain formal  construction  ;  if  it  has  the  former,  it  is  suited 
tc  instruments  that  are  capable  of  giving  expression  ;  if 
not,  it  IS  suited  to  the  organ. 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  think  that  all  your  iiustrumental  fugues 
must  give  way  to  the  vocal  fugue.  When  I  hear  an  in- 
stnnnental  fugue,  I  am  lost  after  the  subject  or  theme, 
or  whatever  you  call  it,  is  given  out ;  all  the  rest  is  a 
jumble  of  .sound.  Occa.sionally  I  may  hear  the  tliLine 
struggling  to  break  through.  vSometimes  it  tries  to  swim 
on  the  top  of  the  jumble  ;  sometimes  it  tries  to  dive  and 
come  out  below  it ;  but  all  the  other  parts  chase  it  franti- 
cally and  choke  it  off,  until,  with  a  final  crash,  it  gives  up 
the  struggle.  But  when  1  hear  a  good  choir  sing  a  fugue. 
I  can  hear  the  theme  every  time  it  comes  in,  because  it 
has  the  words  to  help  me  recognize  it. 

Crabbe.  Talk  of  a  jumble  !  What  can  equal  that  pro- 
duced by  four  parts,  singing  different  words  !  I  have  a 
good  idea.  How  would  it  do  to  let  the  part  that  has  the 
theme  be  the  only  one  to  sing  the  words,  while  the  others 
sing  la-la  ? 

Hazel.  A  great  jiart  of  the  effect  of  a  fugue  depends  on 
the  words  that  are  .set  to  it.  Look  at  the  fugues  in  Han- 
del's oratorios. 

Dalton.  Some  of  them  are  certainly  the  finest  things  of 
the  kind  ever  written,  but  a  great  many  are  just  as  cer- 
tainly very  tedious.  It  seems  to  me  that  they  should  al- 
ways be  sung  to  such  words  as  a  large  crowd  would  keep 
repeating. 

Crabbe.  Like  the  name  of  a  popular  candidate  at  a  po- 
litical meeting—"  Mulhooly  for  ever,"  with  "  Down  with 
the  ring,"  for  a  counter  subject,  eh  ? 

Dalton.  A  base  illustration,  but  it  expresses  my  mean- 
ing. Now  your  idol,  Handel,  is  the  best  one  I  know  of 
to  go  to  for  examples.     Take  the  chorus,  ' '  And  He  shall 


Scratch  Club." 


purify,"  in  the  "  Messiah;  "  of  course  the  construction  is 
very  fine,  and  so  forth,  but  what  sense  or  artistic  propriety 
is  there  in  saying  these  words  over  and  over  again,  ex- 
cept they  be  looked  on  as  a  mere  excuse  for  an  elaborate 
fugue  ?  Or,  take  a  worse  example,  the  chorus,  ' '  And 
with  His  stripes  we  are  healed,"  in  which  words  with 
very  painful  and  solemn  associations  are  repeated  until 
they  lose  their  meaning.  Now  for  an  example  of  the 
other  kind,  what  I  call  good  words  for  a  fugue,  take 
"  Blessing  and  honor,  glory  and  power,"  or  that  splendid 
chorus  in  "Judas,"  "We  never  will  bow  down."  In 
lx)th  we  have  presented  to  us  the  idea  of  a  vast  assembly 
moved  by  one  impulse  or  emotion  to  repeat,  in  one  case, 
an  ascription  of  praise  ;  in  the  other,  a  determined  pur- 
pose to  a  certain  course  of  action. 

Crabbe.  It  is  a  pity  Handel  didn't  stop  that  last  chorus 
you  cited,  after  the  choral,  "We  worship  God;"  what 

follows  is  somewhat  of  an  anticlimax,  and  spoils  the  ef- 
fect. 

Hazel.  Crabbe,  why  don't  you  re-write  the  classical 

composers  ? 

Dr.  Goodman.  Daltoh,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  your 

view  is  the  right  one  ;  it  commends  itself  to  what  you 

have  called  "  artistic  propriety,"  which,  I  take  it,  is  only 

another  name  for  common  sense,  applied  to  matters  of  art. 
Hazel.  I  would  be  sorry  to  lose -all  the  vocal  fugues 

that  don't  square  with  his  rule. 

Dalton.  So  would  I.     I  only  meant  to  give  my  views  of 

what  the  vocal  fugue  ought  to  be  to  get  the  fullest  effect 

of  the  form. 

Crabbe.  There  is  one  kind  of  vocal  fugue  sanctified  by 

the  custom  of  the  "classics,"  that  is,  to  me,  intolerable. 

I  mean  the  "Amen"  fugues   that  so  many  oratorios, 

masses  and  cantatas  drag  after  them  like  a  cumbrous  tail. 


The  "  Scratch  Club:' 


15 


instruction  is 
itic  propriety 
er  again,  ex- 
an  elaborate 
lorus,  ' '  And 
I  words  with 
epeated  until 
nnple  of  the 

fugue,  take 
that  splendid 

down."  In 
•ast  assembly 
,  in  one  case, 
ermined  pur- 

it  last  chorus 
God;"  what 
spoils  the  ef- 

the  classical 

ing  that  your 
to  what  you 
ike  it,  is  only 
natters  of  art. 
vocal  fugues 

'e  my  views  of 
;  fullest  effect 

sanctified  by 
e,  intolerable, 
my  oratorios, 
;umbrous  tail. 


Parks.  Like  a  fair  mermaid,  with  fishy  continuation. 

Crabbe.  ]5e  quiet !  Vou  can't  improve  on  my  meta- 
phor. What  can  be  more  senseless  than  this  long-winded 
reiteration  of  "Amen  "  after  the  story,  or  plot,  or  musical 
interest  has  ended  ? 

IIazti:i  would  be  sorry  to  lose  the  "Amen"  chorus 
tliat  ends  the  ' '  Messiah. ' ' 

Crabbe.  f  )f  course  you  would  •  but  I  am  sure  tliat  every 
candid,  unprejudiced  hearer  luist  kt-l  that  the  "Oratorio  " 
ends  with  "Blessing  and  honor."  This  is  the  climax; 
artistic  propriety  requires  that  it  should  end  here. 

Dr.  Cioodiiiaii.  The  design  of  this  oratorio  being  to 
show  forth,  first,  the  promise  of  Messiah's  coming  ;  then, 
his  humiliation;  and,  finally,  his  U-iumph.  When  the 
last  point  is  reached  the  interest  has  culminated  ;  any- 
thing added  is  impertinent  and  superfluous. 

liazcl.  Poor  Handel  !  How  I  wish  he  had  had  the 
advantage  of  your  criticisms.  I  wonder  how  much  of 
the  "Messiah"  would  be  left  after  you  wise  men  had 
eliminated  all  tiiat  does  not  fit  your  ideas  of  artistic 
propriety. 

Crabbe  was  about  to  make  some  reply  when  Dr.  Good- 
man rose  to  go,  sriying,  that  the  discussion  had  interested 
him  so  much  that  it  had  kept  him  far  beyond  his  usual 
hour.  The  rest  followed  his  example  and  the  party 
broke  up. 


n 


Pl:i- 


SECOND  EVENING. 

T/ir  Pozver  of  Music  for  Expression.     Crabbe 
and  Parks  analyse  the  ''Aurora  "  Sona/a. 

no  one  was  present  as  audience  but  the  writer.  The 
talk  was  about  the  "  power  of  musical  expression  " 
and  projrramnie  nuisic,  and  took  a  turn  that  brought  out 
Crabbe  to  the  astonishment  of  his  friends,  as  follows  : 

Crabbe.  As  a  rule,  all  attempts  to  describe  or  interpret 
music  by  lanjruage  are  failures.  vStill,  I  have  often  been 
struck  with  the  openness  with  which  certain  compositions 
seem  to  lend  themselves  to  verbal  interpretation.  One  of 
the  best  examples  I  know  is  that  great  sonata  known  as 
the  "Aurora  "  by  Beethoven.  The  three  movements  of 
this  sonata  give  three  differing  aspects  of  the  opening 
day.  In  the  first,  we  have  its  grandeur,  the  mighty  rush 
of  the  chariot  of  Apollo,  surrounded  by  the  flying  Hours, 
darting  his  far-reaching  arrows,  slaying  the  python 
Darkness,  conquering  Krebus  ;  the  idea  is  the  same  as 
that  portrayed  in  Guido's  glorious  fresco.  The  second 
movement  conveys  the  mysterious  aspect  of  the  dawn, 
the  slow,  noiseless  spreading  of  the- dim  light  stealing 
gradually  from  hilltop  to  hilltop,  now  tinging  with  tender 
blush  some  vanishing  gray  cloud,  now  gilding  the  cross 
of  some  tall  spire,  while  solemn  darkness  still  lingers  at 
its  base— the  mystery  of  light  overcoming  darkness— the 
myth  of  Eos.  The  last  movement  is,  the  joyous  awaken- 
ing of  nature  to  the  new  day,  the  song  of  birds,  the 
cheerful  rural  sounds,  the  songs  of  light-hearted  hinds 
who  "jocund  drive  their  teams  afield,"  or  lead  their 
(  16  ) 


flc 

lif 


nil 


an 


int 
iiit 
sei 
nu 
(le 
v\v 
sel 

W(J 
lo 

llu 
ex 

cai 
we 
his 
res 
I'ai 
un 
his 
(lis 
nid 
No 
mil 
lar 
cat 
hill 


The  "  Scratch  Club:' 


»7 


Crabbe 
Sofia/a, 

vriter.  The 
.'xpression  " 
brought  out 

follows  : 
or  interpret 
i  often  been 
onipositions 
on.  One  of 
a  known  as 
avements  of 
;he  opening 
mighty  rush 
ring  Hours, 
the  python 
he  same  as 
The  second 
f  the  dawn, 
;ht  stealing 
with  tender 
iig  the  cross 
11  lingers  at 
rkness — the 
msaw^aken- 
f  birds,  the 
arted  hinds 

lead  their 


as 


an 


Hocks  over  the  dew-spangled,  widespread  downs.  It  is 
life  renewed  and  refreshed  after  the  death-like  trance  of 
night. 

Omnes.  Oh  !  Oh  !  ! 

rarkx.   Let's  make  a  Daltoncsque  fugue  on   "oh 
an  adecpiate  expression  of  our  feelings. 

nalloii.    Such   a   burst   of   eloquence    from    such 
•  euthusiasmus  damper,"  as  Schnabel  would  say. 

Parks,  (who  has  long  waited  an  ojjportuuity  to  "  pitch 
into"  Crabbe).  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all  in  your 
inUri)retalioii  except  that  in  general  terms  it  does  repre- 
sent dincreiit  asi)ects  of  the  dawn.  Xf)w,  to  me,  the  first 
movement  represents  the  rising  with  the  sun  of  the  jovial 
(let  us  Call  hiui)  farmer,  anxious  to  get  through  the  day's 
chores,  calling  to  his  rleepy  household  to  bestir  them- 
selves and  "  shake  olf  dull  sloth  "  and  "catch  the  early 
worm,"  and  so  on.  The  myth,  "  Karly  to  bed  and  early 
lo  rise,  make  a  man  healthy,  wealthy  and  wise."  But 
the  most  wonderful  exhibition  of  the  artist's  .skill  is 
expended  on  the  second  movement,  short  as  it  is.  What 
can  it  mean  but  the  slow  awakening  of  the  farmer's  boy  ; 
we  see  the  gradual  dawn  of  consciousness  stealing  over 
his  drowsy  face,  his  cavernous  yawns  are  skilfully  rep- 
resented by  the  extended  arpeggios,  with  intervening 
pau.ses  towards  the  end  ;  the  ritardando  portrays  his 
unwillingness  to  move,  but  knowing  well  the  futility  of 
liis  desire  to  linger,  the  genius  of  the  composer  is  again 
displa\ed  by  his  proceeding  without  a  close  to  the  last 
movement,  as,  fully  aroused,  the  boy  .springs  from  his  cot. 
Now,  you  are  right  in  saying  that  the  last  movement  is  a 
nuisical  i)icture  of  rural  .sounds,  but  you  should  particu- 
larize more.  It  is  all  very  pretty,  to  talk  of  "lowing 
cattle  standing  knee-deep  in  sweet  meadow  grass,"  or 
hinds    "driving   their   teams   afield,"    or   the    "  distant 


|8 


///<•  •'  Siiuihli  Club." 


.1  1 
1^^ 


r: 


blealinK  on  hcalhcr-cla<l  hills."  Hut  you  wilfully  ignore 
a  larKf,  iu  fuel,  the  laiK^-r  part  of  the  rounds  that  make 
up  a  rural  morning,  because,  I  supp.ise,  they  won't  ht 
with  "  a.listic  propriety  "  into  your  rhapsody.  Hut  why 
should  von  not  hear  the  solemn  l.ass  of  the  venerable 
porker,  'and  the  shrill,  youthful  treble  of  the  hungry 
"shoat,"  as  well  as  the  "  m.uving  "  of  the  cows,  or  the 
self-satisfied  cackle  of  dame  parllet,  who  has  achieved  the 
matutinal  egg,  as  well  as  the  distant  "  baa  "  of  a  sheep. 

/Ar.r/.  What  are  we  coming  to  ?  Crabbe  an  enthusiast 
and  Parks  a  satirist.     What  next  ? 

Oid>/>r.  I'very  one  gets  from  music  only  what  he  brings 
to  the  hearing  of  it.  To  me  it  suggests  poetical  images. 
Your   mind.    I   suppose,    doesn't    rise   ai)ove    pigs    and 

ehickeiis. 

/?a//(»t.  Parks,  you  haven't  made  much  by  your  elabor- 
ate onslaught. 

Par/.s.  I  have  made  all  I  wanted.  I  didn't  say  these 
things  were  suggested  to  me.  I  only  say,  why  should 
they  not  be,  as  well  as  Crabbe's  poetical  images  ? 

CraMr.  Well,  there  is  really  no  reason  against  it. 
Music  has  no  defining  power  ;  it  only  suggests  vaguely. 

//azr/.  You  are  evidently  not  a  believer  in  descriptive 

music. 

Crahbf.  Decidedly  not.  It  is  nonsense  to  say  that 
music  can  describe,  wiien  it.  is  necessar)-  to  write  a  pro- 
.rramme  to  tell  vou  what  it  is  meant  to  describe.  It  is 
simply  begging  the  questi.ni  to  say  that  the  programme 
is  only  a  guide  to  the  listener,  to  tell  him  what  emotions 
he  is  to  call  up.  as  though  emotions  were  like  organ  stops 
that  can  be  ' '  drawn  ' '  at  will.  The  programme  is  an  ad- 
mission that  the  music  is  unequal  to  the  task.  If  music 
can  describe  one  thing,  why  not  another  !  If  a  storm,  or 
a  ship  sailing— in  six-eight  time  of  course— why  not  the 


/■//,•  "  Si-nitilt  C'/ii/>." 


t9 


ilfuU)  ij^nore 
Is  that  make 
ilic-y  won't  fit 
ly.  Hutwliy 
lliL-  venerable 
the  luin^ay 
:  COWS,  or  the 
s  acliieved  the 
"  of  a  sheej). 
■an  enthusiast 

,vhat  he  l)rin^s 
letical  images. 
)ve    pigs    and 

)y  your  elabor- 

dn't  say  these 
y,  why  sliould 
nages  ? 

an   against    it. 
gesls  vaguely, 
in  descriptive 

ie  to  say   that 
to  write  a  pro- 
:lescribe.     It  is 
the  programme 
what  emotions 
.ike  organ  stops 
■aninie  is  an  ad- 
task.     If  music 
If  a  storm,  or 
sc — why  not  the 


conduct  of  a  diimer  part>  !  with,  let  us  say,  a  maestoso 
for  the  brass,   to    "suggest"    roast  beef;    a   p.issionale 
tremolo  on  the  strings  f<ir  the  entrees;  a  hurried  move- 
ment on  the  unsatisfactory  bassoons  lor  the  clearmg  of 
the  table,  with  epi.sodes  for  the  triangle  and  cynd.als  to 
represent  the  occasional  breakage  of  a  glass  or  plate; 
tne  cold   "blue"   tones  of  the  llnte  for  ice  cream;  the 
mellow  chalameau  of  the  clarionets   lor  the  wiues  ;   by 
Liszt!    I   will  write   such   a  symph(.ny,   with   a   punted 
"menu"   on   while  velvet   for   a   programme,   and   will 
wager  that  mv  music  will  describe  so  well,  that   il   the 
audience  cmie   hungry   they   will   not  be   "  se.-t  empty 

away." 

Pa/foi.  Vou  forget  the  soup. 

C'rabte  Oh.  I  will  begin  before  the  soup  with  :i  move- 
ment for  twentv-four  kettledrums,  a  la  Herlio/.,  to  repre- 
sent feelingly  the  emptiness  of  the  guests  ;  then  a  Inpud 
melody  for  the  soup. 

Ha.^c/.  I'm  oil.   now  you've  got  to  talking  nonsense. 

Good  night, 

Crabk'.  Wait!  A  counterpoint  between  llie  bass 
trombone  and  piccolo,  to  represent  the  combined  strength 
and  sparkle  of  the  champagne-another  luut  from  Ber- 
lioz, onlv  he  uses  it  in  his  "  Re<iuiem  "  to  represent  the 
groans  of  the  lost   and  the  careless,  happy  whislhng  ot 

the  blessed. 

Hazti.  Come,  Dalton.     He  is  outrageous. 


THIRD  I'A'fCXIXO. 

Discussion  of  (  IiiikIi  Music  ami  A/nsic  in  the 
l*nhlic  ScliDols. 

CMIv  talking  was  (lone  chiefly  l)y  Dr.  Gdodiiiaii,  Cral)he, 
and  Daltoii.  Tlic  Doctor,  wlio  luis  a  j;ivat  notion  for 
the  teachin);  of  innsic  in  the  pnhlic  schools,  asked  inaiu 
([iiestions,  to  jjet  at  the  \  icws  of  his  i)rofessional  friends. 
Kroni  nui.sic  in  schools  to  nutsic  in  cluirches  was  an  easy 
transition.  The  talk  brought  out  many  remarks  that 
appeared  to  me  worth  setting  down. 

Dr.  Ciwdiiitvi.  I  am  -,orry  that  you  all  seem  disposed  to 
throw  cold  water  on  my  pet  notion  of  "  music  in  the  pub- 
lic schools."  Do  you  really  think  it  is  impossible  to  haw- 
it  well  taught  there  ? 

Dallon.  \ot  impo.ssible  ;  but  nearly  so.  The  first  dif- 
ficulty is  to  secure  capable  musicians  as  teachers.  It  i..  a 
fatal  mistake  to  suppo.se  that  an\-  one  who  can  read  vocal 
music  is,  tlierefore,  fitted  to  teach  it.  Another  great  dif 
ficulty,  at  least  in  (V/r  public  schools,  is  the  lial)ility  of 
teachers  to  all  sorts  of  "  oflk-ial  "  interference  from  people 
connected  with  the  "school  system."  But  apart  from  all 
such  considerations,  I  do  not  believe  that  an.\-  progress 
worth  the  trouble  and  exjjense  can  be  made  without  a 
selective  process.  All  people  are  not  musical  ;  all  chil- 
dren can  not  be  taught  to  .sing.  There  is  such  a  thing  as 
having  "  no  ear"  for  music  ;  and  there  is  enough  of  bad 
singing  in  the  world  already  without  spending  labor  and 
(  20  ) 


( 
tea 
tee 

OIK 

or 
mil 
rec 
i'H 

th« 

mr 

po 
no 
an 

Tc 
thi 
thi 
un 
wi 
an 


///,'  "  S,i;t/,/{  C  '/h/>." 


21 


sh  in  the 


nan,  CrAhho, 
at  notion  for 

askud  many 
onal  friends. 

was  an  easy 
cniarks  thai 

1  disposed  to 
•  in  llie  pulj- 
siblc  tt)  liavv 

rile  first  dif- 
lers.  It  is  a 
n  reail  vocal 
ler  K'eat  dif- 
.'  lial)ility  of 
from  people 
Jart  from  all 
ny  proj^ress 
le  witlionl  a 
al  ;  all  chil- 
li a  tliin;^  as 
JUgh  of  had 
ig  labor  and 


money  to  inaki'  more,  hy  trying  to  teach  rhihlroii  with 
nninnsical  organi/atioiis  to  sing.  The  only  way  is:  get 
a  good  miisieian  ;  pay  him  well  ;  let  liiiii  alone  ;  let  him 
sift  out  all  the  ehildren  with  neither  ear  nor  %'oicc  ; — the 
result  will  he  worth  having. 

Crahbf.  I  have  never  yet  heanl  a  school  class  sing  in 
wliieh  there  were  not  sonu-  who  growled  away  on  oa- 
note,  or  sang  a  fonrth  or  fifth  helow  the  melody.  Wiio 
ever  heard  a  school  class  sing  as  well  as  the  worst  hoy- 
choir  ?     I  never  did. 

Dr.  (ioodiitaii.    Do  not  certain  jirofessed  trainers  of  rliil 
dren's   singing   classes  claim  that   all    childien   can   he 
taught  to  sing,  if  the  process  is  comnieiicid  early  enouL;li  ? 

Crabbc.  Oh,  yes!  There  are  people  who  say  they  cm 
teach  any  one  to  sing  who  has  vocal  chords,  tongue,  and 
teeth.  Ikit  defend  me  from  such  singing.  I  suppose  any 
one  with  hands  and  eyes  may  he  taught  to  dauh  canvas 
or  spoil  iiiarl)le  ;  hiit  is  it  worth  while?  Then  wh\  try  to 
make  ])eople  sing,  to  whom  nature  has  denied  the  lirst 
requisites?  As  Dalton  says,  there  is  enough  of  h.id  sing- 
ing in  the  world  already. 

Dr.  (loodotan.  You  gentlemen  may  be  right  ;  hut  don't 
they  have  music  taught  successfully  in  the  .schools  of 
many  of  our  cities  ? 

Dalton.  If  we  may  believe  the  newspapers,  or  the  re- 
ports of  school-boards,  yes.  Hut  I  have  never  heard  it. 
nor  have  I  ever  met  a  capable  niusiciaii  who  has  heard 
any  school-singing  that  possesses  the  least  artistic  value. 
To  vary  Crabbe's  idea,  put  toget'  '.-r  all  the  choir  boys  in 
the  city,  and  you  will  get  a  chorus  such  a-  no  school  in 
the  country  could  furnish.  The  comi)ariso-.i  may  seem 
unfair,  but  when  you  consider  that  three  month's  training 
will  make  a  boy,  with  ear  and  voice,  a  good  choir-singer, 
and  three  years  in  the  public  .school  will  not  make  a  pro- 


22 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


niiscuous  class  sing  half  as  well,  the  apparent  unfairness 
vanislifs. 

Ilanel.  Perhaps  the  amount  of  time  devoted  to  practic- 
ing may  have  something  to  do  with  il. 

Dalfoii.  That  inequality  vanishes  when  you  take  into 
account  the  difference  between  th.  difficult  anthems  sung 
by  the  one,  and  the  simple,  generally  stupid,  little  songs 
sung  by  the  other.  No  !  the  difference  is  to  be  found  in 
the  fact  that,  in  the  one  case,  boys  with  voice  and  ear  are 
trained  by  a  good  musician,  and  in  the  other,  a  crowd, 
many  of  whom  have  neither  voice  nor  ear,  are  mistrained 
by  a  pi;rson  lacking  all  the  necessary  qualifications. 

Dr.  (joodinan.  Well,  it  is  evident  to  me  that  you  mus- 
icians are  "down"  on  music  in  the  schools  unless  it 
should  be  taught  in  the  way  you  have  indicated,  which 
is,  I  fear,  at  present,  and  for  some  time  to  come,  too  Uto- 
pian to  hope  for.  To  change  the  subject,  let  me  hive 
some  of  your  views  on  church  music  ;  how  can  we  make 
it  better-  ? 

Crabbe.  Oh,  forbear  I  The  subject  is  too  hopeless.  I 
only  know  one  way  ;  that  is,  convince  all  i  people  to 
whom  Providence  has  denied  a  correct  ear  and  a  good 
voice,  that  it  is  an  indication  that  Providence  does  not 
consider  it  tluir  duty  to  sing,  also,  all  those  who  have 
good  voices  and  ears  that  it  is  their  duty  to  learn  to  sing 
properly — a  labor  that  Hercules  himself  could  not  per- 
form. 

Dr.  Goodwan.  We  all  know  we  can  expect  no  help  from 
such  a  pessimistic  growler.     What  do  you  say,  Dalton  ? 

Dal  ton.  The  improvement  of  church  music  can  only  be 
attained  by  a  process  that  would  reach  through  several 
generations.  It  would  have  to  begin  in  the  schools,  sup- 
posing it  were  possiljle  to  have  music  taught  there  in  the 
way  I  ha\'e  indicated.     If  children  were  taught  to  appre- 


)parent  unfairness 

[(-■voted  to  practic- 

en  you  take  into 
:ult  anthems  sung 
tupid,  little  songs 
is  to  be  found  in 
voice  and  oar  are 
le  other,  a  crowd, 
ar,  are  mistrained 
talifications. 
lue  that  you  mus- 
schools  unless  it 
:  indicated,  which 
to  come,  too  Uto- 
)ject,  let  me  have 
how  can  we  make 

3  too  hopeless.  I 
all  1  people  to 
t  ear  and  a  good 
jvidence  does  not 
I  those  who  /lave 
ty  to  learn  to  sing 
;lf  could  not  per- 

:pect  no  help  from 
ou  say,  Dalton  ? 
music  can  only  be 
I  through  several 
I  the  schools,  sup- 
lught  there  in  the 
e  taught  to  appre- 


liic  "  Scnitch  C'lih." 


23 


ciate  good  music — I  don't  mean  classical  nuisic,  that  bug- 
bear of  the  ignorant — Init  music  of  a  more  refined  class 
than  the  negro  minstrel  song,  or  the  vulgar  comic  opera 
melody  ;  also  to  appreciate  the  difference  in  style  that 
will  make  one  kind  of  music  appropriate  for  secular,  an- 
other for  sacred  purposes,  we  might  hope  in  time  for  the 
growth  of  a  healthy  popular  taste  in  clunvh  nuisic. 

Dr:  Coodiiiaii.  Won't  you  explain  wiiat  you  mean  by 
"  appropriate  style  "  for  each  kind  of  music  '' 

Dalton.  In  secular  music,  beauty  and  ai  ti.stic  cKcellence 
are  the  prime  objects  to  be  sought.  In  sacred  music  tliese 
tilings  should  be  carefully  subordinated,  or  kept  out  of 
siuht  altogether.  It  should  be  characterized  bv  fervor, 
not  passion  ;  dignity,  not  dramatic  f)rce;  simplicity,  not 
ornateness  ;  above  all,  it  should  never  descend  to  mere 
prettiness. 

Cnibbc.  O  shades  of  Phillips  and  .Saukey  I  and  ye  !  ye 
innuinerous  hosts  of  composers  and  coinp>ilers  of  .spiritual 
songs,  who  sweep  up  "melodies"  from  the  coulisses  cf 
the  variety  tiieatre  and  the  "  temples  "  of  uegnj  minstrel- 
sy, where  will  be  your  occupation  should  this  ever  be? 

Parks.  Crabbe  declaims  like  "  Pythoness  possessed."' 

Dr.  Goodman.  He  does  injustice  to  a  ve.>-  worthy  and 
useful  class  of  writers  ;  men  who  have  a'  complished  great 
good  in  their  waj-. 

Crabbe.  Oh,  I  thought  our  object  was  to  find  out  how  to 
improve  church  music,  not  to  decide  as  to  the  amount  of 
good  any  class  of  men  have  done. 

Dallon.  It  is  a  subject  I  approach  with  diffidence  ;  but 
I  think  it  is  doubtful  if  the  emotions  roused  by  such 
music  are  of  a  nature  permanently  to  affect  their  subjects. 
However,  l)e  this  as  it  may,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
dignity  and  grandeur  better  become  public  worship  than 
'  eentimentality  and  maudlin  sweetness. 


The  "  Scmich  Club," 

Dr.  Goodman.  Why  is  it  that  the  Romanists  and  my 
high  church  and  ritualistic  brethrcMi  have  so  nuicn  better 
music  than  any  other  churches  ?  It  seems  as  if"  the  nutsic 
Rrew  worse  in  proportion  to  the  tlieological  freedom  of  the 
cliurch. 

/hi/loii.  I  think  this  can  he  easily  accounted  for.  In 
proportion  as  the  conduct  of  pu])lic  worship  passes  out  of 
the  control  of  the  educated  it  deteriorates.  Now  in  *.he 
churches  you  .specified  the  clergy  have  the  sole  control  of 
every  part  of  pulilic  worship,  and  they  are  prepared  for 
their  work  by  a  .special  training,  of  which  the  study  of 
music  forms  an  important  part.  Hence  they  not  only 
recognize  the  fact  that  nutsic  is  an  important  part  of  public 
worship— this  all  pretend  to  do— but  they  art  on  their  be- 
lief, and  spare  no  pains  or  labor  to  make  the  music  woi  ihy 
of  its  high  mission. 

Crabbe.  vSpoken  like  an  oracle.  Now  for  the  other 
churches. 

Italian.  All  other  denominations  and  shades  of  denom- 
inations are  culpal)ly  remiss  in  this  matter.  They  pre- 
tend to  attach  great  importance  to  tlie  nnisical  part  of 
their  ser\aces,  but  never  take  one  step  towards  making  it 
worthy  or  appropriate.  In  their  colleges  for  training 
ministers  the  study  of  music  is  ignored  as  a  trifling  occu- 
pation more  befitting  "worldlings  "  than  men  engaged  in 
the  serious  business  of  religion.  In  their  churches  the 
music  is  left  to  the  control  of  what  -is  called  the  "  nuisic 
committee  "—men  who  may  possess  every  gift  and  grace, 
save  a  little  knowledge  of  the  affairs  they  are  supposed  to 
administer. 

Crabbe.  Oh,  it  would  upset  the  patience  of  Job,  the  non- 
sense talked  about  music— the  coolness  with  which  ignor- 
ance praises  or  condemns.  Your  music  committee  will 
call  "  St.  Ann's,"  "  London,"  or  "  Dundee  "  stupid,  old- 


ttmmtL^- 


The  "  Scratch  Club:' 


25 


iiists  and  my 
)  imitii  better 
s  if  the  music 
reedora  of  the 

iited  for.  In 
passes  out  of 
Now  in  '.lie 
)Ie  control  of 
prepared  for 
the  study  of 
liey  not  oidy 
part  of  pul)lic 
/  on  their  l)e- 
nusicwoi  'ly 

3r   the  other 

es  of  denom- 
.  They  pre- 
sical  part  of 
ds  making  it 
for  training 
trifling  occu- 
n  engaged  in 
churches  the 
1  the  ' '  music 
ft  and  grace, 
!  supposed  to 

fob, the  non- 

which  igtior- 

mmittee  will 

.stupid,  old- 


fashioned,  pokey,  and  go  into  raptures  over  "  When  the 
swallows"  or  '  Robin  Adair,"  converted  into  good  Chris- 
tian tunes.  The  authors  of  a  long  line  of  glorious  Scotch 
and  iMiglish  psalmody  must  make  way  for  the  namby- 
pamby  .sentiment  and  clap-trap  jingle  of — well,  I  won't 
say  who;  there  are  .so  many  it  would  be  invidious  to 
name  one.     All  musicians  know  whom  I  mean. 

Dr.  C,oodina)i.  Why  don't  the  organists  tr>-  to  bring 
al>out  a  better  state  of  affairs  ?  Surely  it  would  be  possi- 
ble for  the  choir-master  and  the  minister  to  work  together 
harmoniously  for  such  a  ]>urpose. 

Hazel.  Would  it?  If  the  minister  is  a  wise  man  he 
carefully  leaves  the  music  to  the  committee,  confining 
himself  to  vague  generalities  about  "  congregational  sing- 
ing" and  "  plain  choral  music,"  and  so  on.  If  he  is  not 
wise,  he  takes  sides  with  the  committee,  and  he  and  they 
look  on  the  organist  as  their  natural  enemy  ;  a  sworn  foe 
to  everything  "pious"  or  "'spiritual"  in  church  music. 
If  he  is  very  foolish,  he  will  take  sides  with  the  organist 
and  attempt  reforms,  with  the  certain  lesult  of  pulling  a 
hornet's  nest  about  his  ears. 

Dr.  Coodnian.  I  am  ashamed  to  sa>-  that  I  belong  to 
what  you  call  the  wise  cla.ss.  I  am  mortally  afraid  of 
both  organi.st  and  conunittee.  I  am  sure  my  organist  is 
a  good  musician,  and  has  very  just  and  proper  notions 
about  church  music.  IJut  the  committee  seem  to  regard 
him  as  .some  .sort  of  a  dangerous  animal  that  nui.st  be 
closely  watched  and  constantly  snubbed,  lest  he  should 
scandalize  the  church  by  some  unimagined  innovations. 

Crabbe.  Or  dance  them  all  to  perdition,  like  the  "  pied 
piper  of  Hamelin."  I  think  your  committee  do  well  to 
be  watchful.  Who  can  tell  what  "heresies,  false  doc- 
trines and  schisms,"  glazed  over  with  good  music,  like 
sugar-coated  pills,  an  emissary  of  the  evil  one  in  the  shape 


"  Scnitrh   Chibr 

of  an  organist,  might  administer  to  the  unsnspecling 
flock  ? 

Ha~d.  O  bosh  !  be  serious.  It  seems  to  mc  thai  it 
never  occurs  to  a  committee  that  it  is  possible  a  nuisician 
may  have  juster  notions  about  the  proprieties  of  public 
worship  than  even  they.  Many  people  seem  to  think  that 
when  a  man  becomes  a  musician  he  forfeits  all  claim  to 
the  possession  of  common  sense  in  all  other  affairs  of  life  : 
is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  inspired  idiot. 

Crabbc.  Don't  you  think  a  good  many  musicians  act  in 
a  way  to  give  color  to  such  a  belief? 

Daltou  (indignantly).  No;  there  is  no  class  of  men  to 
whom  so  much  injustice  is  done  in  jiopular  ajiprehension. 
People  at  large  class  all  musicians,  from  the  educated 
gentleman  to  the  mere  fiddler  or  hornblower.  together. 
Who  does  so  with  lawyers,  or  doctors,  or  even  with  shop- 
keepers? I  am  sure  that,  take  the  highest  class  of  resi- 
dent nntsicians  in  any  of  our  large  cities,  you  will  find  a 
class  of  men  that,  for  general  intelligence  and  informaticm, 
will  compare  more  than  favorably  with  any  other  class  in 
the  connnunity.  I  am  sure  the  conversation  of  half  a 
dozen  musicians  is  far  more  intellectual  than  that  of  the 
same  number  of  brokers  or  merchants,  whose  souls  have 
no  ideal  beyond  cent,  per  cent. 

Hazel.  Come,  come,  Dalton  ;  you  are  getting  warmer 
than  there  is  any  occasion  for.  All  sensible  people  are  of 
the  same  opinion,  and  the  opinion  of  the  Philistines  is  not 
worth  minding. 

Dr.  Goodman.  We  have  wandered  far  from  our  subject, 
which  is  to  me  at  least  a  very  interesting  one  ;  but  I  am 
afraid  it  is  too  late  to  resun^e  it.  I  mean  to  think  it  over, 
and  at  some  future  time  will  have  a  lot  of  questions  to 
ask.     Good  night. 


it: 


c  unsuspecting 

to  nic  that  it 
iihk-  a  nuisician 
ietic'S  of  pu1)lic 
:m  to  think  that 
;its  all  claim  to 
;r  affairs  of  life  ; 

nusioians  act  in 

class  of  men  to 
r  apprehension. 
11  the  educated 
lower,  together, 
even  with  shop- 
st  class  of  rcsi- 
,  you  will  find  a 
md  information, 
ly  other  class  in 
nation  of  half  a 
than  that  of  the 
hose  souls  have 

getting  warmer 
ble  people  are  of 
Philistines  is  not 

rom  our  subject, 

g  one  ;  but  I  am 

to  think  it  over, 

of  questions  to 


FOURTH  EVENING. 

Dr.  (roodmau  Reads  an  Old  Sermon. 

DR.  (iOODMAN  made  his  appearance  this  evening, 
anned  with  a  volume,  and  in  response  to  the  inqui- 
ries of  the  club  as  to  its  contents,  replied  :  "  It  is  a  volume 
of  sermons  by  an  Ivuglish  Nonconformist  divine  of  the 
last  century.  There  is  in  it  a  sermon  that  would,  I  think, 
entertain  you.  It  appears  to  have  been  called  forth  by 
the  visit  of  llaydii  to  London  in  1790.  The  good  man 
seems  to  have  thought  it  his  duty  to  warn  his  people 
against  t)ie  .seductions  of  the  concert  room  in  moving 
terms.  If  you  wish,  I  will  read  some  of  it  after  the  even- 
ing's music."  This  being  warmlv  as.sented  to,  the  Doc- 
tor, after  the  "  scratching,"  read  as  follows  : 

"  Dear  brethren,  you  will  find  my  text  for  this  morn- 
ing's discourse  in  the  third  chapter  of  the  prophet  Daniel, 
part  of  the  ftmrth  and  the  whole  of  the  fifth  versL's,  where 
you  will  read  as  follows  :  '  It  is  commanded,  at  what  time 
ye  hear  the  sound  of  the  cornet,  flute,  harp,  sackbut, 
psaltery,  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds  of  music,  ye  fall  down 
and  W()r.sliip  the  golden  image  that  Nebuchadnezzar  the 
king  hath  setup.'  My  subject  naturally  divides  itself 
into  the  following  heads  :  I'irst,  the  occasion  on  which 
this  vast  assembly  was  gatliered  together  :  second,  the 
instruments  of  music  mentioned  in  the  text  ;  third,  the 
use  of  instruments  of  music  in  public  worship  ;  lastly,  the 
use  of  instruments  of  music  as  a  means  of  an.  n^ement  or 
dissipation. 

"  Figure  to  yourselves,  my  hearers,  a  large  open  plain 

(2;) 


28 


The  "  Scratch  CM." 


-  i 


or  meadow,  green  with  the  early  growth  of  grass,  bright 
with  the  blossoms  of  blooming  flowers.  The  fervid  sun 
of  the  eastern  elime  is  slowly  rising  above  the  distant  hori- 
zon, but  what  is  the  sight  his  blessed  beams  reveal? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this  dense  array,  this  gathering  of 
the  nuiltitudes,  this  mighty  concourse  of  interested  spec- 
tators? The  serious,  awe-struck  faces  forbid  the  notion 
that  it  is  a  gathering  of  merry-makers,  a  parade  of  plea- 
sure-seekers; but  look!  what  is  this  that  rises  proudly, 
towering  above  the  i)lain,  glittering  in  the  moniiiig  sun- 
beams, awful  in  its  mute-menacing,  mysterious  grandeur? 
'Tis  the  image  of  burnished  gold,  the  god  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, the  vile  idol  of  unbelief,  the  unclean  thing  that 
King  Nebuchadnezzar  has  set  up  in  his  pride  to  affront 
the  fair  face  of  day  with  its  hideous  assumption  of  divin- 
ity. Look  !  Why  turn  the  faces  of  the  multitude,  with 
eager  glances,  all  one  way?  Behold  I  in  all  his  glory,  in 
his  pride,  in  his  wraitonness,  in  his  blazing  golden  chariot, 
surroutided  by  a  glittering  throng  of  courtiers,  forth  rides 
Nebuchadnezzar,  the  lord  of  Babylon,  to  .see  with  his  own 
eyes  that  the  decree  he  made,  in  the  lust  of  absolute 
power,  that  all  should  worship  the  golden  image,  is 
obeyed. 

"  My  theme  to-day  forbids  tha*;  I  should  dwell  on  the 
heroic  conduct  of  the  dauntless  vShadrach,  Meshach  and 
Abednego,  though  it  were  far  more  congenial  to  contem- 
plate than  the  subject  on  which  I  nuist  enlarge  ;  sweeter 
far  it  is,  dear  brethren  beloved,  to  dwell  on  tiie  actions  of 
the  just  than  to  explore  the  devious  doings  of  those  who 
depart  from  righteousness.  But  needs  nmst  be  that  the 
watchman  on  the  wall  gives  timely  warning  to  careless 
dwellers  at  ease  in  Zion  ;  and  in  our  day  the  ever-wakeful 
Enemy,  lying  in  wait  for  souls,  taking  on  him.self  the  foiin 
of  an  angel  of  light,  in  the  eyes  of  some  who,  having 
eyes,  see  not, — he,  I  say,  has  beguiled  many  un.stalile 
souls,  by  sweet  strains  of  .sounding  brass  and  tinkling 
cymbal,  and  has  invaded  even  the  sanctuary  with  the  cor 
net,  flute,  harp,  sackbut,  psaltery,  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds 
of  music,  until  our  places  of  swe;;t  conununion  have  come 
to  resemble  the  plain  of  Dura  in  everything  but  the  golden 
image.    Let  us,  my  hearers,  be  found  with  the  Shadrachs, 


tl 
fi 

V 

SI 

l"( 
ti 
ti 
o 
ii 

Si 

\\ 
n 
d 

S( 

fi 

P 
n 

P 
g 
tl 
n: 

P' 
b 

ft 
o1 

t£ 

k 
ni 
ol 

St 

ai 

(li 

P: 
fi; 
tl 

?' 
iz 

w 

C{ 

C 


?rass,  bright 
c  fervid  sun 
distant  hori- 
anis  reveal  ? 
gathering  of 
crested  spec- 
d  the  notion 
ade  of  plea- 
ses proudly, 
iiorniiig  sun- 
is  grandeur  ? 
f  Xclnichad- 
n  thing  that 
de  to  affront 
ion  of  divin- 
Ititude,  with 
his  glory,  in 
Iden  chariot. 
s,  forth  rides 
with  his  own 
of  absolute 
n   image,    is 

dwell  on  the 
Vieshach  and 
il  to  conteni- 
"ge  ;  sweeter 
le  actions  of 
of  those  who 
t  be  that  the 
g  to  careless 
ever-wakeful 
iself  the  foiin 
who,  having 
iny  unstable 
and  tinkling 
with  the  cor- 
md  all  kinds 
)n  have  come 
Lit  the  golden 
e  Shadrachs, 


The  "  Scratch  Chib.' 


29 


the  Meshachs,  the  Abednegos,  protesting  even  unto  the 
fiery  furnace.  But  list !  a  herald  in  gorgeous  garments  is 
preparing  to  .speak.  The  murmurings  of  the  multitude 
sink  to  silence  as,  with  haughty  step,  he  ascends  the  plat- 
lorm  whereon  the  golden  image  rests.  He  takes  his  sta- 
tion and,  in  stentorian  tones,  delivers  the  royal  proclama- 
tion to  the  a.s.sembled  peoples,  and  tongues'  and  nations, 
commanding  them  to  bow  down  and  worship  the  golden 
image  when  they  hear  the  sound  of  the  cornet,  flute,  harp, 
sackbut,  psaltery,  dulcimer  and  all  kinds  of  music. 

"Before  proceeding  with  this  scene,  we  will,  in  a  few 
words,  discu.ss  the  nature  of  the  instruments  of  music 
mentioned  in  the  text,  from  which  we  may  perchance 
draw  some  instructive  lessons.  TlK>e  instruments  are  of 
several  kinds :  instruments  with  strings  i)lucked  by  the 
fingers,  like  unto  the  '  la.scivious  lute '  spoken  of  by  the 
play  writer  (whose  works  none  of  you,  I  trust,  read  ;  the 
reading  of  such  books  being  necessar^•  only  to  the  com- 
plete furnishing  of  the  Christian  mini.ster,  taught  and 
guided  by  grace,  that  he  may  be  the  better  fitted  to  con- 
trovert the  insidious  evils  they  inculcate).  Next,  instru- 
ments blown  by  the  breath,  which  is  the  life  of  man  that 
perisheth.  Ah !  why  should  he  waste  this  precious 
breath,  which  is  his  life,  in  blowing  seductive  sounds 
from  the  instruments  of  his  own  devising,  in  piping  that 
others  may  dance?  Next,  we  have  v.hat  the  heaven- 
taught  apostle  u.ses  as  the  figure  of  all  that  is  most  worth- 
less, the  '.sounding  bra.ss  and  tinkling  cymbal.'  Can  we 
not  recognize  here,  beloved,  in  this  train  of  instruments 
of  music,  doubtless  .set  down  by  the  prophet  for  our  in- 
struction, an  antitype  of  what  the  devotees  of  the  world 
and  the  flesh— I  had  almost  added,  of  the  devil — in  our 
day  call  an  orchestra.  Good  reason  have  they  to  feel 
proud  of  the  origin  of  their  orchestra.  Its  inventor,  its 
first  patron  was  the  good-despising  Nebuchadnezzar,  and 
the  first  recorded  orchestral  performance  took  place  on  the 
plain  of  Dura,  some  two  thousand  j^ears  ago,  and  signal- 
ized the  setting  up  of  a  hitherto  unknown  form  of  devil- 
worship.  Ah  !  it  behooves  us  to  look  carefully  into  these 
carnal  gratifications,  these  ticklings  of  the  fleshlv  ear. 
Can  a  thorn  bring  forth  figs  !     Can  an  association  of  vag- 


30 


The  "  Scratch  Ciub." 


H 

I'll 


'1 


rij 


V 


abonds,  of  reprobates,  as  it  is  too  well  knowji  al.  these 
fiddling  and  piping  musicians  arc,  bring  forth  works  meet 
for  repentance,  or  help  to  raise  the  burdens  Irom  sin- 
laden  souls,  discourse  they  n  'Ver  so  sweetly  with  their 
cornets,  and  sackbuts,  and  psalteries,  or,  as  we  would 
say,  their  flutes,  their  fiddles,  their  hautboys?  I  do  vio- 
lence to  your  sanctified  understanding,  dear  brethren,  in 
asking  such  (luestions,  and  will  now  resume  the  main 
thread  of  my  discourse. 

"  What  was  the  occasion  for  which  this  motley  array, 
this  gathering  of  the  lees,  this  convocation  of  the  men  of 
Belial,  this  orchestra  was  gathered  together?  Our  text 
is  explicit  on  this  point.  It  was  to  add  to  the  imposing 
solemnitv.  It  was  to  lend  the  aid  of  sweet  sounds  to  the 
pronuUgation  of  a  Iving  faith.  It  was  to  temper  by  its 
tuneful  softness,  to  awe  by  its  blatant  noisiness  the  hearts 
(if  the  i)eople  to  accept  a  neW  religion  ;  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  rouse  by  its  vigorous  strains  the  enmity  of  the 
carnal  heart  tovvard  all  who  might  hesitate  to  fulfil  the 
mandate  of  the  king.  And  how  it  succeeded  in  both 
these  offices  we  know  too  well.  Of  all  that  countless 
throng  but  three  stciod  erect,  and  they  were  three  despised 
Jewish  captives.  And  again.st  them  the  people  raged  and 
the  countenance  of  the  king  grew  dark.  Who  shall  say 
how  much  of  this  was  traceable  directly  to  the  strains  of 
these  emissaries  of  the  iCvil  one,  these  diabolical  dis- 
coursers  of  dulcet  sounds,  this  orchestra  ?  See  to  it  then, 
ye  who  grow  rapturous  over  the  strains  of  Haydn  and 
Mozart,  that  ve  are  not  partakers  of  the  sin  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar. Let  the  great  ones  of  the  land,  in  whose  houses, 
at  whose  feasts,  are  the  harp,  the  viol  and  the  lute,  see 
to  it  that  thev  add  not  to  their  condemnation,  that  they 
have  spoken  fair  and  hugged  to  their  hearts  these  ])esti- 
lent  purveyors  of  sounding  symphonies,  with  their  rabble 
rout  of  pipers  and  fiddlers,  all  the  spiritual  descendants  of 
the  king  of  Habvlon's  evil  crew.  Oh,  n.y  .soul  is  moved 
to  her  depths  when  I  see  the  thoughtless  people  throng 
the  gates  that  lead  to  the  concert  room,  to  listen  with 
feigned  estasies  to  the  strummings  and  thrummings  of  a 
Havdn  or  a  Mozart,  the  while  they  treat  with  light  scorn 
the'  sweet  sougs  that  we  raise,  '  making  melody  in  our 


ii 


riu   "  ScraUlt  Clu/i." 


31 


wn  al.  these 
1  works  meet 
us  troin  siu- 
y  witli  their 
IS  \vc  would 
>  ?  I  do  vio- 
bretlireii,  in 
lie   the  main 

lot  ley  array, 
)f  the  men  of 

?  Our  text 
Llie  imposing 
lounds  to  the 
emper  by  its 
ess  the  hearts 
on  the  other 
nniitv  of  the 
;  to  fulfil  the 
;ded  in  both 
lat  countless 
iree  despised 
pie  raged  and 
.'^ho  shall  say 
he  strains  of 
labolical  dis- 
ee  to  it  then, 

Haydn  and 
)f  Nebuchad- 
'hose  houses, 
the  lute,  see 
on,  that  they 
5  these  ])esti- 
1  their  rabble 
escendants  of 
oul  is  moved 
)eople  throng 
0  listen  with 
minings  of  a 
;li  light  scorn 
lelody  in  our 


hearts,'  if  not  in  our  lips,  as  we  pour  forth  with  untaught 
fervor  our  hvnuis  of  praise,  trusting  alone  to  the  instru- 
ment with  which  the  Creator  has  gifted  us,  unpolluted  by 
the  accompaniment  of  the  cornet,  llute,   harp    sacklml, 
psalterv,    dulcimer,    organ,   or   any  other   ot    the   many 
kinds  (")f  music.     As  saith  the  poet  Burns,  Inmsell  I  tear 
nmegeneratc.  'perhaps  '  Dundee's'  wild  warbling  meas- 
ures rise,  or  noble   '  lUgin  '   l)eats  the  heavenward  tlanie.' 
What  piping  of  llutes,'  or  groaning  of  organs,  or  rasi)ing 
of  fiddles  can  give  any  delight  to  the  earnest  soul  that 
breathes  her  praver  in    '  Dundee's  wild  warbling  meas- 
ures,' or  bits  her'voice  heavenward  in  jmiise  on  the  wings 
of   'noble  Ivl.gin  '  ?     Hut  1  weary  you  and  will   pass  on. 
Man  is  a   composite  creature,  ])ossessed  of  three  avenues 
through  which  temptation  may  as.sail  him  :   the  avenue  of 
the  tlesli,  the  avenue  of  the  spirit  and  the   avenue  ot  the 
will.     The  first   is  the  path  by  which  enter  all  the  h)wer, 
coarser   forms  of  temi)tation  ;  the  second  is  the  ])ath  ])y 
which  enter  all   these  more  refined  forms  of  temptation, 
to  which   tlie  world  gives  the  name  of  fine  arts  to  fulfil 
their  scml-destroying  mission,  by  diverting  the  affections 
from   the   more   serious   spiritual    affairs  of  life.     Now, 
doubtless,  Nebuchadnezzar  had  in  his  employment  many 
eminent  music  composers  who  strove  with  each  other  to 
.secure   his   favor   and   countenance   by  catering  to   this 
sensual  love  of  fine  art,  which  he  doubtless  possessed  in 
an  eminent  degree  ;  it  l)eing  one  of  the  things  that  those 
in  everv  age  wdio  desire  to  be  distinguished  above  their 
fellows',    or   who  fill   exalted   stations,    look    upon  as  a 
crowning   proof  of  their    gentler    nurture.      lie,    then, 
knowing  full  well  the  power  of  this  profane  music  on  the 
unregenerate  heart,  acted  with  the  wi.sdom  of  the  children 
of  this  world,  when  he  chose  it  as  the  signal   for  this  act 
of  idol  woiship.     He  was  deeply  skilled   in   the  human 
heart  and  knew  that  the  m'>  -al  nature  of  the  hearers  l)eing 
undermined  bv  its  apjjcals,  they  would  be  the  less  likely 
to  offer  resistance  to  his  ccnnmand,  to  worship  the  jiro- 
duction  of  a  sister  '  fine  art.'     Ah  !  how  true  it  is,  if  the 
door  is  opened  to  one  evil,  a  legion  swarm  in.     This  will- 
destroying,  soul-unnerving  music  opened  the  door,  and 
was  forthwith  followed  by  the  idolatrous   bowing,  and 


1 


^Jtm 


n 


3* 


Thr"  Scratch  CIii/k 


this  by  tlic  loosing;  the  evil  jiassions  of  ra^c-  ai.d  hate 
a^ainsi  thesleadlast  Hebrew  children,  Shadiaeh,  Meshaeh 
and  Abedncyi).  " 

/v.  (iooiiinaii.  (I  will  skip  iiis  denunciations  of  music 
\i\  church  and  i>roceed  to  his  exordium). 

■'  Heloved,  I  iiave  been  led  to  make  these  remarks  by 
tile  arrival  of  one  in  owx  mid>t  whom  the  whole  world 
wonders  after,  calling  him  a  divine  i^eiiius.  insjjired,  and 
I  know  not  what  else.  1  allude  to  the  (,"iennan  musician, 
Haydn,  who  is  sojourning  for  a  sjjace  in  this,  the  modern 
Halnlon,  to  hear  whose  music  the  vain  people,  ever 
weariless  iii  their  search  after  some  new  tiling,  thronj.; 
nightly  to  the  concert  room.  Tnie,  we  lia\e  no  plain  of 
Dura  in  our  midst,  with  its  visible,  pali)able  image  of 
gold  set  up  :  but  we  have  a  worse  image  in  our  hearts, 
the  love  of  being  thought  more  refined  and  '  cultivated.' 
as  tlie  phrase  is,  than  our  fellows,  peojde  of  taste,  peo])le 
of  fashion.  How  many  deluded  souls  Ixiw  down  to  this 
grim  idol,  moved  thereto  by  ihe  stnuns  of  this  modern 
musical  magician  ;  how  many,  though  loathing  in  their 
secret  soul  this  horrid  mixture  of  groanings  and  S(|ueal- 
ings,  and  soul-affrighting  sliocks  of  sound,  called  a  syiu 
phony,  I  believe,  yet  vvitli  smiles,  profess  their  love  for  it, 
and  thus  bow  down,  fearing  the  scorn  and  laughter  of 
their  associates !  Brethren,  I  look  with  fear  on  these 
things  and  would  affectionately  warn  you  lest  you  enter 
into  temptation.  Go  not  near,  slop  your  ears  and  ily  lest 
ye  be  taken  in  the  net.  Look  abroad  and  .see  the  moral 
(larkness  that  settles,  deep  as  night,  on  those  lauds  where 
])rofiine  music  is  most  cultivated.  The  infidelism  of 
(lenuany,  the  impiety  of  France,  the  superstition  of 
Italy  ;  then  look  at  our  own  hai)py  land,  with  quiet  vSab- 
baths,  made  vocal  with  the  sweet  notes  of  psalms,  hymns 
and  spiritual  songs.  Would  ye  lose,  wimld  ye  barter 
away  these  things?  No  !  then  beloved  hearers,  shun  the 
concert  i-oom  ;  look  on  the  siren  sound  of  sackbut  and 
psaltery  as  an  invitation  to  bow  in  false  worship.  Would 
ye  have  music  ?  Sing  iwalms,  raise  your  voices  in  sweet 
accord  ;  but  beware  these  flutes  and  fiddles.     Finally,  let 


lis 


inc 
lioi 
fiec: 
sus 
hea 
the 
afti 
.sen 
swi 
out 

/ 
vat 
esti 

/ 
as  t 

L 
res] 
wit 
peo 

i 

jiot 

( 
wh( 
all 

/ 
thii 
har 

L 
moi 
wic 

I 
ami 
to  1 
to  t 


The  "  Scratch  CM." 


33 


ji;e  ai.fl  hate 
ih,  Mcsliacli 


ms  of  music 


rciiiprks  l)y 
wliok-  world 
iisj)irc(l,  and 
an  musician, 
,  the  nioderu 
|)ei>ple,  ever 
lin^,   throng 

no  j)lain  of 
)le  iuiaj.';e  of 
II  our  hearts, 
'  ciiltivated.' 
taste,  |)eo]>le 
li)\vn  to  this 
tliis  modern 
iiin>^  in  their 
^  and  s(|ueal- 
alled  a  syni- 
ir  love  ibr  it, 

hiughter  of 
L*ar  on  these 
;st  you  enter 
s  and  fly  lest 
ee  the  moral 
!  lands  where 
infidelism  of 
]K'rstition  of 
Lh  quiet  vSab- 
alms,  hynnis 
Id  ye  barter 
ers,  shun  the 

sackbut  aiid 

hip.     Would 

)ices  in  sweet 

Finally,  let 


us  all  search  our  hearts  to  discover  if  we  have  any  secret 

inrliiiation  .ind  fleshly  longing  for  these  sinlul  gratilica- 
lions.  What  deep  longing  oi'  man's  nature  can  l)e  satis- 
fied l)y  the  notes  of  a  fiddle?  Can  a  hnn^;ry  soul  fnul 
sustenance  in  the  tones  of  a  Hute?  or  a  broken  heart  he 
healed  by  the  j^roaning  of  a  grumlio?  [an  old  name  for 
the  violoncello].  No,  these  things  can  feeil  no  aspirations 
after  a  higher  life  ;  but  while  they  soollie  with  soft  and 
.sensuous  sweetness,  surely  send  us,  with  ever-increasing 
swiftness,  down  that  W(H.'ful  way  that  hath  its  end  in 
outer  darkness." 

Dr.  Goodman.  Hut  enough  of  the  reverend  gentleman's 
vaticinations.  Von  see,  though,  how  yon  nnisicians  were 
esteemed  bv  some  worth\  people  of  the  last  century. 

nallo)!.  I  fear  that  kind  of  people  is  not  yet  as  extinct 
as  the  dodo. 

Cnibbi'.  I  had  no  idea  that  the  orchestra  was  of  such 
respectable  atiticpiity.  Quite  likely  it  was  not  original 
with  that  grazing  monarch.  I  .shouldn't  woiuler  if  tlie 
peojile  marched  away  from  the  tower  of  Babel  with  bands 
— "  of  sackbut,  ])saltery  " — and  so  on. 

J/arjii.  The  old  gentleman  had  a  great  opinion  of  the 
])Otency  of  music,  to  saj*  nothing  of  its  malevolent  effect. 

Crabbe.  What  a  curious  tendency  the  human  mind  has, 
when  under  the  influence  of  one  set  of  ideas,  to  look  upon 
all  others  as  useless  if  not  wicked. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Ah,  well,  after  all,  it  is  a  very  difficult 
thing  to  decide  how  much  of  the  world's  amusement  is 
harmless  to  the  jirofessed  seeker  of  another  world. 

Crabbe.  There  are  too  many  crooked,  cross-grained 
moralists  to  whom  the  very  word  amusement  savors  of 
wickedness. 

Dallon.  Kvery  one  ought  to  decide  for  himself  what 
amusements  he  can  allow  himself  without  deterioration 
to  his  morals ;  if  only  he  would  stop  there  and  not  try 
to  make  all  the  world  cut  their  cloaks  by  his  pattern. 


wam^HUtimmmmk 


(»'  ;  1. 


34 


The  '•Smitih  Club." 


Dr.   CooJnian.   True,   (l..ul)lk'>->,   l«iit   llic  iiUL-stiun  ol 
charily  sUps  in  t<>  modify  this  riuht  ;  after  scttlhiK  the 
first  point,  every  man  sh<ml(l  ask  himself,  "  What  amuse- 
ments can  I  indulK*--  myself  in  witlinnl   ^ivinK  lause  i)f 
olTciicc  to  weaker  men  .■•  " 

Crabhc.  Oh,  han^  the  weaker  vessels  1  they  always 
han^  like  millst(mes  ahout  the  necks  of  the  stron^j. 

Parks.  I  don't  think  yoii  have  ever  let  yourself  play 
"Sinhad"  to  any  of  thes;   "ol  1  men  of  the  sea." 

Dr.  (ioodinan.  OCrahhe!  what  a  jmor  opinion  any  one 
would  have  of  yon  who  built  it  upon  your  own  account 
of  yourself. 

Crabbc.  Doctor,  you  mollify  me.  I  was  about  to 
sciuelch  that  venomous  Parks,  who  never  loses  an  oppor- 
tunitv  of  barkiiiK  :»t  me. 

na.fl.   Like  the  little  dog  behind  the  fence  at  the  big 

dog  in  the  street. 

Parks.  Thank  you,  Hazel  ;  I'll  pay  you  for  that. 

Dr.  Coodnian.  Come  away,  come  away,  l)ig  dogs  and 
little  dogs,  or  you  will  all  be  snarling  at  each  other  pres- 
ently. 


FIFTH  BiVENINCx. 

The  Relative  Merits  of  Vocal  and  fnstntmeutal 

Music. 

CHlv  discussion  this  evening  was  of  a  fragmentary 
character;  many  subjects  were  started,  but  none 
held  the  attention  of  the  party  long.  Nevertheless,  I 
have  made  some  notes  which  I  think  will  bear  publica- 


tiol 

reh 
Th 

of 

the 

llill 

I 

Ilia 
ecu 
po\ 
pla 
< 
Crc 
wa 
art 
for 
po' 
tic 
liai 
ma 
tin 
am 
ins 
po 
ex 

wi 
I  c 

sic 

su 
by 
nu 


.'  4Ui.'StioJi  ol 
r  SL'ttliiiK  the 
What  amusc- 
\iii^;  i-ausc  ol 

Hay   always 
J  stroiiK- 
youist-lt  phiy 
e  sea." 

|)inion  any  one 
t  own  account 

was    al)out    to 
OSes  an  oppor- 

•ncc  at  the  big 

for  that. 
l)ig  dogs  and 
ach  other  pres- 


nstnimeulal 


a  fragmentary 
rted,  but  none 
Nevertheless,  I 
11  bear  publica- 


Thc  "Smitcfi  Clubr 


,^5 


lion.  The  first  subject  to  call  out  any  ;irguincnt  was  the 
relative  sujicriority  of  vocal  ami  instrumental  niiisic. 
The  Doctor  and  Parks  took  the  >idc  of  vocal,  Dalloii, 
of  instrumental,  ami  Crabbc,  sometimes  one  sometimes 
the  other,  as  his  inclination  or  love  of  opposition  led 
him. 

l)t .  (iooiiiihiii.  N'olhing  sow  can  say  will  convince  me 
that  any  mere  con-.truilioii  of  wood,  catgut  or  wire,  ca,. 
etpial  the  instruuRiit  dcvisid  b\-  the  Creator,  in  ijuality, 
power  or  exi)rcssion.  Why  do  instrumentalists  sa>' of  a 
player  that  he  makes  his  instrumenl  sing  or  talk  ? 

Ciahlw.  I  am  afraid  your  respect  for  the  works  of  the 
Creator  may  bias  your  judgment  somewhat.  The  only 
way  to  judge  of  the  comparative  merits  of  the  natural  and 
artificial  iuslrumeuts  is,  to  look  on  each  as  a  mechanism 
for  the  production  of  simtul,  and  ccmipare  their  range, 
power,  ([uality,  and  so  forth.  Physiologists  and  acous- 
ticians tell  Us  that  the  voice  is  a  reed  instrument  of  the 
haull)oy  species,  that  is.  a  double  reed.  Its  range  is  re- 
markable, when  we  consider  the  limited  means  by  which 
the  sounds  are  produced  ;  the  same  is  true  of  its  power 
ami  <iuality  ;  in  .ill  the.se  it  is  far  surpassed  by  artificial 
instruments.  Its  only  sui)eriority,  if  such  it  is,  is  the 
power  of  combining  language  with  nuisic,  thereby  giving 
ex])ression  to  definite  emotions. 

Dalton.  1)0  you  think  this  combination  of  language 
with  sound  is  a  superiority,  or  the  gain  in  definiteness  ? 
I  do  not :  words  .seem  to  me  to  limit  and  curb  the  exjjres- 
sion  of  nuisic. 

Crahhe.  I  merely  call  it  the  only  claim  of  the  voice  to 
superiority;  a  claim  that  is  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  the  greater  rauge-jxiwer  and  (juality  of  other  instru- 
ments, es])ecially  of  the  string  iu.strumeuts. 

Dr.  Goodman.  (J  you  fiddlers  1     I  would  all  the  world 


The  "Scratch  Clitb." 


had  the  faith  in  more  important  matters  that  jx-u  have  in 
your  catgut  and  horse-hair  contrivances. 

Parks.  I  like  string  instruments  as  well  as  anybody  ; 
but  still  I  think  the  voice  is  far  ahead  of  them  for  inten- 
sity, passion,  and  expression. 

Crabbc.  Oh,  ho!  you  have  a  pretty  good  tenor,  haven't 
you  ? 

Parks.   Well,  yes  ;  I  flatter  myself. 

Crabbc.  There  i.*-  nothing  like  having  a  voice,  or  think- 
ing you  have  one,  to  convince  you  of  the  superiority  of 
vocal  '.nusic.  A  solo  pianist  is  apt  to  be  a  conceited  ani- 
mal ;  a  solo  violinist,  to  look  on  common  men  as  inferior 
beings  ;  but  for  a  pure,  lofty,  undoubting  conviction  of 
his  superiority  to  all  mankind  commend  me  to  a  solo 
tenor ;  he  has  all  the  vanities  of  lioth  sexes  with  the 
graces  of  neither. 

Parks.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  all  viola  players  arc 
men  \n1io  failed  as  violinists.  It  must  be  this  that  has 
embittered  your  life,  and  made  you  so  envious  of  all  who 
are  more  gifted  than  yourself 

Dr.  Goodman.  Come,  come,  gentlemen  ;  you  are  get- 
ting personal  and  rude  ;  let  us  return  lo  the  subject  we 
were  discussing. 

Crabbc.  I  confess  I  spoke  rather  warmly  ;  but  when  I 
think  of  the  cool  impudence  with  which  singers  will  take 
liberties  with  the  greatest  masters,  .becausi,  forsooth,  they 
think  they  can  improve  them,  or  make  their  music  more 
suitable  to  their  precious  voices,  as  if  their  voices  were 
the  oidy  things  in  the  universe  to  be  considered,  ^reat  as 
my  patience  is,  it  must  give  way. 

Dalton.  What  a  contrast  to  the  great  instrumentalist  I 
He  prides  him.self  on  his  conscientious  adherence  to  hi'i 
text  ;  thinks  it  almost  sacrilege  to  alter  a  note  of  Mozart 
or  Beethoven.     I  think  it  a  good  argument  for  the  supe- 


The  ''Scratch  Cluhr 


37 


s  that  you  have  in 

s. 

well  as  anybody  ; 

of  them  for  inten- 

ood  tenor,  haven't 


\  a  voice,  or  think  • 
the  superiority  of 
be  a  conceited  ani- 
lon  men  as  inferior 
ting  conviction  of 
end  me  to  a  solo 
h  sexes  with  the 

viola  players  arc 
;  be  this  that  has 
envious  of  all  who 

len  ;   you  are  get- 
to  the  subject  we 

rmly  ;  but  when  I 
h  singers  will  take 
.us(, ,  forsooth,  they 
:  their  music  more 
their  voices  were 
snsidered,  ^reat  as 

t  instrumentalist  ! 
s  adherence  to  hi  ■; 
r  a  note  of  Mozart 
ment  for  the  supe- 


riority of  instrumental  music — this  difference  in  their  re- 
i;ard  for  their  authors  between  the  vocalist  and  the  instru- 
mentalist— their  different  views  of  artistic  morals.  The 
player  always  sinks  his  individuality  in  his  work,  strives 
to  divine  what  his  author  means  ;  the  singer  too  often 
finds  in  his  work  only  food  for  his  self-esteem. 

Parks.  You  are  too  sweeping.  I  have  known  man_\- 
singers  ju.st  as  conscientious  as  any  player  that  ever  lived. 

Dallon.  So  have  I  ;  still  the  rule  holds  good. 

Dr.  (ioodinan.  Well,  never  mind  the  vanities  of  poor 
humanities.  All  mankind  are  only  too  amenable  to  the 
charge  of  "  magnifying  their  office."'  As  some  one  said, 
I  forget  who,  ' '  No  man  can  be  happy  unless  he  thinks 
he  can  do  some  one  thing  better  than  his  fellows,  if  it  is 
only  that  he  can  take  a  larger  bite  out  of  a  pie  than  they. ' ' 
Possibly  the  singers  do  think  that  their  bite  is  uncom- 
monly large.  It  does  no  harm  so  long  as  the  public  are 
satisfied,  which  it  must  be,  judging  from  the  prices  it 
pays  to  hear  them . 

Crabbe.  It  docs  do  harm — to  artistic  morals,  and  no  feel- 
ings or  emotions  can  be  lowered  in  tone  without  reacting 
on  all  the  rest. 

Dr.  (ioihiiiiaii.  I  am  sure  you  are  totally  mistaken. 
Your  assertion  is  true  only  when  applied  to  the  moral  or 
intellectual  nature.  The  artistic  and  the  moral  may  exist 
side  by  side  ;  but  either  may  also  exist  in  the  most  highly 
developed  state  without  the  other.  History  is  full  of  ex- 
amples of  a  high  state  of  art  culture  with  a  low  state  of 
morals,  and  the  reverse.  Agaiii,  artistic  fitne.ss  and  moral 
fitness  may  be  as  wide  asunder  as  the  poles  ;  for  my  part, 
I  sometimes  think  that  too  much  devotion  to  art  results 
in  a  deterioration  of  morals,  for  many  reasons  ;  one  is, 
that  mankind  do  not  seem  to  hold  the  artist  as  bound  by 
the  same  moral  law  as  other  men  are— but  I  don't  want 


38 


The" Scratch  Clid>." 


W' 


to  preach.  Do  you  remeiiibL-r  in  one  of  our  discussions, 
I  think  on  fugues,  something  was  said  about  ilie  right 
kind  of  music  for  certain  words,  or  something  to  that 
effe(-t.  I  would  like  to  hear  more  about  it,  wliich  is  of 
greater  importance  in  the  combination— poem  or  music? 
Dalton.  The  poem,  of  course.  If  it  were  not,  it  would 
be  a  gain  ever>-  way  to  "sol-fa  "  all  vocal  music. 

Crabbc.  Judging  from  most  of  the  singing  I  have 
heard,  I  should  say  the  words  would  better  be  left  out ; 
but  I  don't  think  the  singers  are  of  your  opinion. 
Dr.  Coodman.  Why?  what  do  you  mean  ? 
Crabbc.  I  mean  that  the  majority  of  singers  treat 
the  words  as  of  no  imroicance,  and  slur  them  over,  or 
chew  them  up,  or  swallow  them  whole  ;  anything  but  sing 
them. 

Dalton.  You  are  descending  from  principles  to  per- 
sonals.    I  am  sure  you  know  what  I  mean. 

Parks.  Dalton  ;  I  thought  you  considered  instrumental 
music  far  ab()\e  vocal.  How  can  >-ou  say  then  that  the 
words  are  the  most  important  in  the  combination  ? 

Dalto:u  It  is  a  case  in  which  the  "greater  nuist  serve 
the  lesser. ' ' 

Dr.  Goodman.  What !  Is  music  greater  than  poetry? 
Dalton.  In  a  certain  sen.se,  yes.  It  takes  up  expression 
where  poetry  drops  it,  carrying  it  to  a  region  beyond  the 
reach  of  poetry.  As  a  teacher  or  educator— the  higliest 
province  of  poetry— music  is  totally  wanting.  But  where 
mere  expression  of  emotion  is  concerned,  music  can  take 
poetry  up  on  eagle  wings  and  carry  it  be>  ond  the  clouds. 
Crabbc.  Providev.,  of  course,  that  the  poem  can  "sit" 
on  the  eagle's  back,  or  that  the  eagle  will  "  fit  "  its  back 
to  the  poem.  After  all,  it  is  only  a  small  class  ol  poems 
that  are  suited  to  musical  illustration  ;  they  must  be  lyric  : 
descriptive,  didactic,  philosophic  poetry — the  highest 
clas.s — is  utterly  unfit  for  music.     It  is  only  the  poetry  of 


en: 
ba 

\vt 

eU 

ki 
ce: 

H 

cl( 
pe 

ha 
h? 
is 
w 
oi 

til 

tb 

ki 

qi 

ci 
h( 
h; 

n 
o 
a 


«li 


>ur  discussions, 
ibout  ilie  right 
lething  to  that 
it,  wliich  is  of 
)oem  or  music  ? 
■e  uot,  it  would 
music. 

inging   I    have 
cr  be  left  out ; 
jpinion. 
n? 

if  singers  treat 
•  them  over,  or 
ything  but  sing 

nciples  to   per- 

1. 

ed  instrumental 

y  then  that  the 

linatioii  ? 

iter  must  serve 

than  poetry  ? 
:s  up  expression 
fion  beyond  the 
;or — the  higliest 
ng.     But  where 

music  can  take 
,  ond  the  clouds. 
3oem  can  "  sit  " 
1  "fit"  its  back 
1  class  ol  poems 
?y  must  be  lyric  : 
ry — the  highest 
ily  the  poetry  of 


f/ic  "  Scratch  Club." 


69 


emotion  that,  like  the  linnet  in  the  fable,  can  mount  the 
back  of  your  eagle  and  be  carried  above  the  clouds. 

/;/-.  C.oodiiHin.  When  \  cm  l)egan.  I  did  not  think  you 
were  about  to  hang  such  a  graceful  pendant  to  Dalton's 
eloquent  remarks. 

Parks.  Strange  that  he  shoi.ld  for  he  is  one  of  that 
kind  who  think  eloquence  only  another  name  for  insin- 
cerity, and  call  it  "  gnsh. 

Crahbc.  No  man,  by  t:-king  vhought.  can  be  eloquent. 
He  must  first  be  earnest ;  then,  if  he  has  anything  to  say, 
eloquence  will  come  of  itself.  I  don't  mean  anything 
personal,  Dalton. 

Dr.  Gcodiiian.  It  is  doubtless  true  that  many  people 
have  the  feeling  Parks  mentioned.  It  may  be  that  they 
have  a  latent  consciousness  that  the  proper  province  of  art 
is  in  art ;  hence  its  methods  are  misplaced  when  dealing 
with  more  serious  subjects  ;  the  too  eloipietit  preacher  is 
open  to  the  suspicion  that  he  is  more  conscious  of  his  art 
than  concerned  about  his  message.  I  agree  with  Crabbe 
that  all  real  eloquence  is  an  outgrowth  of  earnestness.  I 
know  of  nothing  more  unpleasant  than  the  artificial  elo- 
quence of  the  professional  elocutionist,  when  the  pronun- 
ciation of  every  syllable,  every  motion  of  hands,  feet,  or 
head,  is  the  result  of  a  rule,  and  is  never  varied  from  a 
hair's  breadth. 

Crahbc.  Dalton  said  once  that  the  "conversation  of 
musicians  was  more  interesting  than  th:it  of  brokers  or 
other  business  men  ■:'  ours,  this  evening  is  more  xfuark- 
able  for  "  wandering  "  than  for  interest. 

LMton.    That  is  the  chief  pleasure  of  conversation, 
touching  a  hundred  subjects,  lingering  with  none. 
Parks.  Sipping  the  sweets  of  countless  flowers. 
Crabbe.  Skimming  the  milk  of  countless  cows. 
Dr.  Goodman.  Well  !  that  is  a  metaphor  with  a  ven- 
geance—fitting conclusion  to  our  evening's  conversation. 


SIXTH  EVENING. 
Musical  Prejudices! 

Cms  evening  was  spent  discussing  "Musical  Preju- 
dices." Crabbe  was  in  his  element,  and  contrived 
to  say  something  disagreeable  to  ever>'one  present.  The 
conversation  became  interesting  after  he  had  delivered 
himself  as  follows : 

Crabbe.  In  no  part  of  music  has  prejudice  had  a  larger 
share  than  in  the  deference  paid  to  great  names,  even  b}- 
good  musicians,  and,  of  course,  by  amateurs  who  wish  to 
get  credit  for  knowing  what  is  what.  This  deference  is 
either  the  result  of  timidity  and  a  desire  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,  or  of  a  mistaken  idea  that,  because  a  composer  is 
great,  all  his  works  must  be  equally  good.  But  if  ic  is 
true  that  "  Homer  sometimes  nods  and  Shakespeare  wrote 
more  than  one  dull  play,"  there  is  nothing  derogatory  to 
the  genius  of  Bach  or  Handel,  Beethoven  or  Mozart  in 
saying  that  they  have  all  written' some  things  that  the 
world  could  very  well  spare — things  that  are  stumbling- 
blocks  to  the  weak,  things  that  delude  the  humbugs  into 
feigned  raptures  and  make  the  unlearned,  but  humble- 
minded,  long  for  that  inner  light  t'lat  enables  others  to  see 
beauties  in  what  seems,  to  their  aull  comprehension,  such 
mighty  poor  stuff. 

Dalton.  I  protest  against  applying  the  word  ' '  stuff ' '  to 
(  40  ) 


th( 

tin 
by 
is 

asl 

it 

wl 

hi: 

fai 

as 

wc 

sa; 
as 
an 


"  The  Scratch  C/iib." 


41 


Musical  Prejn- 

,  and  contrived 

present.     The 

had  delivered 

:e  had  a  larger 
lames,  even  by 
rs  who  wish  to 
lis  deference  is 

be  on  the  safe 
a  composer  is 
.  But  if  ic  is 
kespeare  wrote 

derogatory  to 
1  or  Mozart  in 
hings  that  the 
are  stumbling- 
humbugs  into 
I,  but  humble- 
es  others  to  see 
ehension,  such 

ord  ' '  stuff ' '  to 


anything  that  the  great  men  you  have  mentioned — at  least, 
Mozart  and  Beethoven — ever  wrote  ;  every  note  should  he 
treasured  as  a  ])rccious  legacy  l)y  the  world. 

Ila~(I.  Vou  may  api)ly  it  to  the  rest,  but  you  can't  sliow 
nie  a  note  b\-  Handel  that  the  world  can  spare.  Grandeur 
in  musical  conception  began  and  ended  with  him.  Ever 
since,  there  has  been  an  increasing  prominence  given  to 
the  merely  passionate  and  sentimental,  or,  as  it  is  called, 
the  romantic  side  of  music. 

Crabbc.  No  writer  has  reached  such  a  pitch  of  dignity 
and  grandeur  as  Handel,  I  willingly  confess  ;  but,  I  must 
add,  I  don't  think  any  other  has  written  so  much  that  is 
insufferably  tedious,  and  .so,  far  from  filling  the  conditions 
we  agreed  on  the  other  evening,  as  necessary  to  the  union 
of  words  and  nuisic. 

Hazel.  You  nuist  make  some  allowance  for  the  taste  of 
the  time  wlien  he  wrote. 

Crabbc.  Truth  in  art  is  above  the  fashion  of  any  and  all 
times.  The  moment  you  say  that  an  artist  is  to  be  judged 
by  the  taste  of  the  time  when  he  lived,  you  saj'  his  work 
is  not  for  "all  time,"  but  a  day.  Who  wonld  think  of 
asl-ing  that  allowances  should  l)e  made  for  Michel  An- 
gelo,  or  Milton,  or  Shakespeare  ?  Or,  if  they  require  it, 
it  is  for  their  faults  or  failures,  not  for  the  things  for 
which  the  world  honors  them.  What  Handel  wrote  for 
his  time  ought  not  to  live  or  be  counted  great,  and  just  .so 
far  as  he  wrote  for  his  time,  he  failed  in  his  true  calling 
as  a  great  artist. 

Parks.  But  a  man  must  live,  and  Handel  had  hard 
work  at  or.»  time  to  do  so. 

Crabbc.  I  am  not  blaming  him  lor  what  he  did.  I  only 
say  that  his  "pot-boiling"  work  should  not  be  held  up 
as  a  model  for  all  ages.  He  is  great  enough  without  it, 
and  great  enough  to  be  freely  criticized. 


I 


4? 


Tlie  Scratch  Club. 


Hazel.  I  don't  think  Jlandcl  need  fear  any  criticism 
that  you,  or  any  man  living,  can  make  on  his  work  ;  let 
us  have  some. 

Crabbe.  Well,  I  think  that  nothing  but  the  most  deter- 
mined prejudice  could  make  any  one  profess  to  admire  the 
unmeaning,  interminable  runs  with  which  his  music  is 
overloaded.  Take,  for  example,  the  opening  solo  in  the 
"Messiah;"  nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  than  the 
first  part,  "  Comfort  Ye  My  People,"  perfectly  adapted  to 
the  words,  simple  and  chaste  ;  but  does  anybody  realh- 
like  the  second  part,  "  Every  Valley,"  when  the  process 
of  exaltation  is  made  audible,  if  not  visible,  by  the  long 
"  division,"  as  it  was  called,  on  the  word  exalt? 

Dalton.  It  is  a  case  of  exalting  the  music  at  the  expense 
of  the  words. 

Crabbe.  Another  good  example,  the  solo  "  Why  do  the 
Nations  ;  "  there  is  some  artistic  fitness  in  the  run  on  the 
word  "rage,"  but  when  the  word  "anointed"  is  made 
to  drag  through  awother  serpent-like  succession  of  sounds, 
the  effect  is  almost  ludicrous.  But  the  ludicrous  is  fairly 
reached  in  the  chorus,  "  All  We,  Like  Sheep,"  where  the 
word  ' '  turn  ' '  is  set  to  such  a  lively  run  that  it  suggests 
the  picture  of  a  flock  of  sheep  capering  merrily,  in  giddy 
fashion,  on  their  lund  legs,  and  rather  proud,  and  not  the 
least  bit  penitent,  at  their  turning  their  own  way  so 
cleverly. 

Hazel.  It  is  rank  blasphemy  fo  speak  that  way  of 
Handel's  music  :  no  musician  should,  no  matter  how  he 
thinks. 

Crabbe.  There  it  is  !  Keep  on  lying,  rather  than  shock 
established  prejudices.  I  jirefer  to  tell  the  truth,  or  what 
I  think  to  be  the  truth  ;  I  don't  even  hesitate  to  say  that, 
if  one-half  of  the  ' '  Messiah  ' '  were  left  out,  the  rest  would 
gain  by  the  omission. 


arj 


"  The  Scratch  CluO." 


43 


any  criticism 
his  work  ;  let 

he  most  deter- 
;  to  achiiire  the 
1  his  tnusic  is 
iig  solo  in  the 
tiful  than  the 
:tly  adapted  to 
nybody  realh' 
;n  the  process 
e,  by  the  long 
:xalt? 
at  the  expense 

"Why  do  the 
the  run  on  the 
ited  ' '  is  made 
sion  of  sounds, 
icrous  is  fairly 
:p,"  where  the 
lat  it  suggests 
rrily,  in  giddy 
id,  and  not  the 
r  own  way  so 

c  that  way  of 
matter  how  he 

her  than  shock 
truth,  or  what 

ate  to  say  that, 
the  rest  would 


Hazel.  Defend  me  from  "  Handel  "  improved  by  Crabbe. 

Crahhc.  Bacli  and  Handel  lived  at  the  close  of  one  and 
the  opening  of  another  epoch  in  music.  They  had  a 
great  deal  of  the  formalism,  not  to  say  "pedantry,"  that 
was  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  old — notably  of  the 
Belgian  school — with  whom  the  construction  of  an  enig- 
matic canon,  or  an  ingenious  doul)le  counterpoint,  or  an 
upside  down  or  wrong  end  foremost  imitation  was  looked 
upon  as  a  supreme  effort  of  genius  (the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries  were  nothing  if  not  pedantic).  But 
in  spite  of  this  formalism,  both  of  these  men,  being  gifted 
with  superhuman  genius,  were  able  to  rise  far  abo\e  the 
"  nvanner  "  of  their  day  and  to  produce  works  that,  un- 
touched by  time,  will  ever  remain  the  most  wonderful 
monuments  of  the  art. 

Parks.   Whew  !  What  a  burst ! 

Crabhc{\w\.  noticing  him).  The  great  work  that  Haydn, 
Mozart,  and  Beethoven  did  was  to  free  music  completely 
from  all  artificial  bonds  and  make  "  beauty,"  not  "con- 
struction," its  ideal. 

Dal/on.  Therefore  I  maintain  that  that  glorious  trium- 
virate are  the  supremest  representatives  of  the  art,  their 
work  its  most  lasting  monuments. 

Crobbc.  Vou  include  everything  they  wrote? 

Dallou.   I'A'ery thing. 

Crabbe.  I  think  I  know  .some  things  by  all  three  that 
the  musical  world  is  quite  content  to  forget.  Possibly 
they  were  "  pot-boilers  ;  "  if  so,  I,  for  one,  object  to  being 
compelled  to  admire. 

Dalton.  But  you  must  remember  that  these  men  grew 
great  by  degrees.  Haydn  had  to  evolve  the  "  form  "  be- 
fore their  greatest  works  became  ])ossible. 

Crabbe.  Don't  you  .see?  you  admit  the  whole  of  my 
argument.     Tried  by  the  standard  of  "  perfection  in  art," 


1 


■WMI 


"  The  Scratch  Cluhr 


all  their  tentative  work,  l)e  it  never  so  interesting,  wust 
fall  short.  It  is  by  their  mature,  fuUy-cieveloped  work 
that  we  must  jud^e  them  ;  the  interest  in  the  rest  is  his- 
torical or  biographical  rather  than  "artistic"  in  the 
highest  sense. 

Haul.  You  are  never  satisfied  unless  you  can  find 
spots  on  the  sun. 

Crahhc.  Well,  we  know  the  spots  are  there  and  are 
an  inseparable  necessity  of  his  constitution. 

nallon.   Hut  why  descant  on  them  ? 

Ciahbc.  Hecause  it  is  just  as  necessary  to  a  proper  un- 
derstanding of  the  sun  to  see  the  spots  as  to  see  the 
radiance.  I  like  to  think  that  the  greatest  men  were, 
after  all,  men  of  like  passions,  faults,  and  failings  as  our- 
selves—not impo.s.sible  monsters  ;  the  knowledge  of  their 
failures  increases  a  thousandfold  my  sympathy  for  tlieir 
successes. 

Dr.  Goodman  (who  has  been  a  silent  listener).  We  can 
feel  no  sympathy  with  ab.solute  perfection,  either  of  good 
or  evil.  Angels  are  above,  devils  beneath,  human  sym- 
pathy. It  is  only  where  we  recognize  the  capability  for 
either,  and  the  struggle  to  rise  from  the  lower  to  the 
higher,  that  our  sympathies  are  aroused.  I  am  very 
much  pleased  with  your  saying  that  the  very  failures  of 
genius  should  move  us  to  a  closer  sympathy  with  their 
successes.  However,  I  have  always  thought  your  ' '  bark  ' ' 
worse  than  your  "  bite  ;  "  but  I  must  away.  I  owe  you 
all  a  very  pleasant  evening. 


corr 
all  I 
scrij 
autl: 


"] 
scrip 
the  1 
cordi 
to  in 
em  a 
I^eps 
buhr 


itG3 


; rest i  111!^,  must 
i"elojK'(l  work 
le  rest  is  liis- 
stic"    in   the 

\-o\\   can   find 

here  and  are 


a  proper  un- 
is  to  sec  the 
st  men  were, 
tilings  as  onr- 
ledge  of  their 
athy  for  their 

ner).  We  can 
iither  of  good 

human  sym- 
capability  for 

lower  to  the 

I  am  very 

ry  failures  of 

hy  with  their 

your  ' ' bark  ' ' 
.     I  owe  \o\x 


SEVENTH  EVENING. 

Crahhc  Reads  a  Tianslalioii  of  an  Eirypdau 
I\ipyrns. 

CHIS  evening  was  devoted  to  the  hearing  of  a  long  let- 
ter, read  by  Mr.  Crabbe,  which  he  had  received 
from  a  friend  of  his,  a  learned  Kgyptologist,  attached  to 
the  British  Museum,  with  whom  he  maintains  a  regular 
correspondence.  This  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Wormall.  spends 
all  his  time  and  ingenuity  in  deciphering  i)apyrus  manu- 
scripts and  hieroglyphic  tal)ii.s,  and  is  looked  up  to  as  an 
authority  in  such  matter,.  Mr.  Crabbe  had  obtained  the 
promise  from  him  that,  if  ever  he  met  with  anything  con- 
cerning the  music  of  ancient  Egypt,  he  would  connnuni- 
cate  it  to  him.  This  letter  was  the  result  of  this  promise. 
Mr.  Crabbe  was  pleased  to  say  that  he  thought  it  might 
prove  "a  valuable  contribution  to  our  discussion  of  church 
music  ;  "  but,  as  usual,  we  could  not  tell  whether  he  was 
in  earnest  or  was  merely  indulging  his  satirical  vein. 
The  reader  must  judge  for  himself. 

"London,  Nov.  4th,  18—. 
"  Mv  Dear  Crabbe  : 

"  I  have  lately  devoted  mucli  time  and  study  to  a  manu- 
script, unfortunately  very  nuich  damaged,  l)elonging  to 
the  reign  of  Menoph-a  king  of  the  sixth  dynasty;  ac- 
cording to  Manetho,  but,  as  modern  research  would  .seem 
to  indicate,  of  the  seventh  dvnasty,  although  even  mod- 
ern authorities  are  divided.  You  may  consult  Elx^rs  and 
Upsuis  for  the  arguments  in  favor  of  the  sixth,  and  Nie- 
buhr  and  Rawlin.son  for  those  in  favor  of  the  seventh 

(  45  ) 


The"  Scratch  Club. 


dvnastv      I  incline,  for  several  reasons  to  the  opinion  of 
the  Vonncr.  although  I  n;rant  inueh  NveiKhl  to  lie  ar-u- 
K^nts  of  the  latter  authorities   ,.arlK-ularlv  the  discover) 
bv  Niebuhr  of  a  cartouche  at  the  site  ot  the  city  of  Isa- 
men   a  uauie  eviclentlv  conipouiulecl  of  the  uaine  ot  the 
LoVlciess  Ss  aud  the  root  of  the  word  Meuoph   the  ua.ne 
of  the  king  in  unestiou.     This  root  '  Meu    is  the  name  of 
the  mvthfeal   flmuder  of  l^gypt,  ami  was  j.orne  by  ^he 
kings  who   claimed   descent   trom  him.     >•<  ^v  this  c  t 
seems   to   have   been  built  in  the  time   o     the   sev...t 
dyrsty   possil)ly  l)y  this  v..Ty  king  Menoph.  who  gave   t 
t^  "name  Isamen  to  perpetuate  his  achievenK.U  a  d  Im 
devotion  to  Isis.     This  cartouche  in  (luestion  ^vas  carxc 
on  one    f  the  pillars  of  the  propylon  ot  a  temple  now 
r  ias.  and  bears  the  name  of  Menoph.  with  a  stateme 
which  the  former  authorities  thus  translate:      Huilt  in 
honor  of  the  memory,'   etc.     This  would  be  conclusive 
Sic^  were  it  not  that  the  latter  -'thonties  h.ive  t^ijw 
grave  doubts  on  its  accuracy,   chuming  that^  it  should 
fead    '  liuilt  that  the  memory  sh.nild  be  honored,    etc 
The  first   ranslation  is  de..-idedly  in  the  past  ;  the  second 
is  rather  ambiguous,  but  the  well-known  scholarship  o 
the  latter  authorities  entitles  their  opinion  to  grave  con- 
Weration  ;  but  I  am  afraid  I  bore  you  with  this  kmg  div 
cussion  of  a  subject  that  is  only  of  niterest  to  professc 
Egyptologists,  so  I  will  at  once  proceed  to  my  translation 
of^Uie  papyrus,  occasionally  adding  such  notes  as  may 
help  you  to  understand  some  of  its  allusions : 

'  Bv  command  of  the  chief  priests  have  f.  P^^-'tll^JJ; 
m-hn'  the  scribe,  set  down  in  order,  for  the  iist.uc- 
S^if ^s^  who'come  after,  this  ^^f^^^^^^ 
sioiis  which  arose  during  tlie  reign  of  M^"«P'^-  ^^'"/^ '^. 
Kings  Ruler  of  Upper  and  Lower  hgvpt.  Lord  ot  tl ic 
i  otos^'e  c(I  will  oniit  the  long  string  of  titles,  Nvhiclii. 
epeated  every  time  his  name  is  introduced),,  winch  d  s- 
seSsSns  resuUed  in  the  overthrow  ot  the  ancient  schoo  s 
of  the  musicians  and  the  establishment  of  the  never-to-bo- 
tooluch  lauded  (this  is  one  word  in  the  original  s_ac  ed 
music  which  we  now  en  oy  under  the  favor  of  our  Dread 
W  Menoph  (King,  etc.,  etc.),  iu  this  his  city  of  Isa- 


d;i 

111 
ai 
ill 
re 

ra 

\Vi 

111 
sc 
111 
til 
til 
til 
P' 

al 
sn 
til 
P^ 
Pi 
of 
til 
\v 
of 
h( 
te 
fil 
te 
til 
of 

V.' 

di 

ta 

^'} 
w 

ar 


The  "  Sinifrli  CIii/k" 


47 


)  the  opinion  of 
111  to  llic  ar^;u- 
Iv  thf  discovery 
the  city  of  Isa- 
he  name  of  the 
noph.  the  name 
'  is  the  name  of 
IS  home  hy  the 
Now  tliis  city 
of  the   sevv^.ith 
)ph,  who  K^ve  it 
•vcment  ami  his 
ition  n-as  carved 

I  temple  now  in 
,itli  a  statement 
slate  :  '  Hnill  in 
Id  be  conclusive 
ties  have  thrown 
r  that  it  should 
)e  hon'ored,'  etc. 
Dast ;  the  second 

II  scholarship  of 
;)n  to  sj;rave  con- 
;ith  this  lon^  dis- 
erest  to  professed 
to  my  translation 
:h  notes  as  may 
iious : 

lave  I,  Phe-thar- 
for  the  instruc- 
icle  of  the  dissen- 
Menoph,  King  of 
rypt,  Lord  of  the 
cJf  titles,  which  is 
,nced),  which  dis- 
le  ancient  schools 
of  the  never-to-he- 
le  original)  sacred 
avor  of  our  Dread 
is  his  city  of  Isa- 


men,  where  dwells  and  is  worshipped  the  grert  godtlcss 
I'hthah  (probably  the  Demetcr  ol  (Week,  and  Ceres  ol 
l,alin  myllii>l()j;y ).  In  all  the  world  is  the  fanii-  of  oiii 
li'inple  si>n.ad,  an<l  tin.'  mysti-iies  and  glories  of  our  vv(  r 
siiii)  are  kuDwn  to  all  jicDplus  md  kindreds.  I'-mm  the 
days  of  Xkiies,  the  divine  ancestor  of  our  I.ord  Metioph 
(  King,  etc.,  etc. ),  have  we  celebrated  withc-nt  ceasing  tin 
mysteries  of  the  go<ldess.  (Tliis  claim  to  an  tniknown 
anli(|iiity  is  connnon  to  many  religions  ;  it  is  also  another 
illustration  of  the  desire  of  tlie  Ivgxptians  to  ignore  tlie 
reign  of  the  Ilyksos,  or  shepherd  kings,  a  monotheistic 
race,  who  put  an  end,  for  a  long  jKriod,  to  the  idolatrou-- 
worshij)  of  tlie  Ivgyptians. )  As  the  time  for  the  swelling 
of  \ilus  draweth  nigh,  when  Sotliis  looks  upon  the  de- 
scent of  Osiris  to  the  shades  (a  poetical  way  of  saying 
that  Sothis,  the  dog  star,  rises,  as  Osiris,  the  sun,  is  set 
ting — what  astronomers  call  the  heliacal  rising  of  a  star  ; 
this  heliacal  rising  of  the  dog  star  occurs  at  the  time  of 
the  annual  iiniii(l;Uion  of  the  Nile  valley),  the  priests 
proclaim  a  solemn  f'ast,  wiili  oiferiiigs  to  propitiate  the 
goddess,  tliat  she  may  .send  a  i)lenteous  harvest.  Imoiii 
all  the  country,  far  and  near,  the  peo])le  throng  to  our 
sacred  city  of  tlie  great  king  Meiioph  (  King  of,  etc.,  etc.;, 
the  dwelling-place  of  Plithah,  to  witness  --'id  l)ear  their 
part  in  the  temple  services,  and  secure  the  benefit  of  the 
priestly  intercessions,  for  which  they  give  to  the  priests 
offerings  according  to  tiieir  moans  or  their  necessities,  for 
the  suj)port  of  the  ])riests  and  the  services  of  the  temple, 
whereby  large  sums  of  money  are  stored  in  the  treasury 
of  the  temple,  to  the  honor  of  the  goddess  and  the  joy  of 
her  priests.  When  the  set  time  has  come  the  gates  of  the 
temple  are  thrown  o])en,  and  the  multitudes  press  in  and 
hll  the  court  of  the  people.  Thick  darkness  is  in  all  the 
temj)le,  and  silence  soon  fills  on  the  ])eople  as  they  wait 
the  coming  of  the  priests  and  the  signs  of  the  i)resence 
of  the  goddess.  vSuddenly  the  holy  place  (or  chancel,  as 
we  would  call  it,)  is  filled  with  a  blaze  of  light,  while 
darkness  still  rests  on  the  people.  Now  is  heard  the  dis- 
tant .sound  of  flutes  and  the  ring  of  c\iiibals  (the  ancient 
cymbal  was  much  smaller  than  our  modern  noisy  aftair), 
which  grow  nearer  and  louder  as,  robed  in  white  stoles 
and  c.owned  with  wreatlis  of  the  sacred  lotos  flower,  the 


.  m 


48 


///(•  "  SiniUli  Club," 


loiij;  train  of  minislcriii^  pritsis  filters  in  solemn  proces- 
sion, swin^iii);  tiicir  sniokiii);  CLiisirs,  wliiili  till  tlic  vast 
spacf  with  llu;  oilor  of  nard,  anil  fiankiiu  iMi>f,  ami  other 
pnrions  spices.  I-'ollowin^;  the  piiisls  walk  llu-  ihicf 
nnisic-ians,  wlio  also  hcloiijj  to  the  priestly  caste,  reverend 
men  with  snow-white  hair,  dressed  in  Kl'^t<-'"i"K  white 
robes  j^irded  with  golden  girdles,  each  one  l)eariii^(  on  his 
left  arm  a  ^^olden  fonr-strin^;ed  lyre,  in  his  ri^ht  liand  an 
ivory  plectrum  wherewith  he  strnck  the  sout  diiijr  slrin^;s. 
In  their  train  followed  the  jjlayeis  on  the  -yinhals,  the 
sistrnm,  the  crotalnm,  and  tlie  (Inte.  In  their  company 
walki'd  the  singers,  beautifnl  yonths  and  maidens,  whose 
dnty  is  to  sin>;  the  hymn  to  the  j^oddess  or  to  make  loud 
music  with  voices  and  instruments  while  the  pritsts  move 
in  mystic  dance  round  the  feet  of  the  j^oddess.  When  the 
dance  is  ended,  and  the  offerings  of  flour,  mai/e,  barley, 
and  onions  are  laid  on  the  altar  in  front  of  the  goddess, 
the  youths  and  maidens,  led  by  the  ciiief  musicians,  sing 
the  ancient  hymn  to  the  music  brought  down  to  the  earth 
by  the  great  i'hlhah  herself,  as  it  is  taught  by  liie  iiriests. 
Now  this  ancient  music  is  of  four  sounds,  sacred  to  the 
gods,  that  may  not  be  used  for  any  ])rot'ane  ])uri>ose  with- 
out incurring  their  resentment.  (This  means,  I  suppose, 
that  the  oldest  ICgyplian  music  was  constructed  in  a  .scale 
of  four  sounds,  probably  what  was  alterwards  known  as 
the  Pythagorean  tetrachord.)  Loud  rises  the  sound  of 
voices  aiul  instruments  as  they  sing  this  hymn  in  the 
hearing  of  the  goddess  and  of  the  expectant  multitude  : 

"  Great  Roddes.s  I'hthuh, 
Giver  of  fruitful  seasons, 
Mother  of  life,  hear  ! 
Thy  suiile  ripens  the  fields  ; 
Thou  j.;ivest  plenteous  harvests  ! 
Bearer  of  the  lotos  flower, 
Deign  to  accept  the  maize. 
The  onions,  the  barley  we  hr?<ig. 

Great  Kod<les.s  Phtliah, 

Mother  of  life,  hear  ! 

Supplicate  thy  holy  priests, 

Waiting  thy  people  stand." 

'  (I  only  give  you  the  literal  meaning.     The  peculiar 
form  of  poetry  common  to  all  ancient  »Semitic  peoples, 


pr 

of 

sp 
ca 
cu 
lie 
th 
ai; 


\k 


«l 


Ihc  "  Siiiiti/i  C/iil>." 


49 


)lciiiii  jirorcs- 
1  fill  tlic  va>t 
>L',  aiul  olliir 
ilk  tin-  iliiul' 
iNtf,  rivi.'ivii(l 
iti'iiiiiK  wliiu- 
iiariii^  on  liis 
i^lit  iiaml  an 
'lin}r  slriiiKs. 
:ynil)als,  the 
iL'ir  c-onipany 
lidens,  wliosc 
L<>  make  lond 
■  priests  move 
*.  When  the 
nai/c,  barley, 
the  ^oddi'SS, 
usirians,  sinj^ 
n  to  the  earth 
jy  the  jiriests. 
sacred  to  the 
pnrpose  with- 
ns.  I  suppose, 
-ted  in  a  scale 
rds  known  as 
the  sound  of 
hynni  in  tlie 
t  nuillitude : 


The  peculiar 
mitic  peoples, 


called  parallelism,  doe>  not  easily  accommodate  itself  to 
om  ton>j[Ue. )  Soon  as  the  sound  of  the  music  i-eases,  tiie 
sacred  llanie  and  smoke  luusl  from  the  mouth  and  nos 
Irils  »)f  the  >;odde>s,  and  the  people,  with  holy  awe,  pros- 
trate themselves,  as  lhe\'  whisper  :  "  A  iire^ent  ^;o<ldi'ss  ! 
The  ^rcat  mutlur  hears  oi.r  pra\ers  !  "  Now  it  came  to 
pass  that  a  certain  man  of  the  chief  nuisicians,  calleil 
Mlii  nem,  was  moved — some  said  by  vain  thon>;hts  ; 
others,  better  informed,  said  by  the  goddess  herself— to 
add  three  notes  to  the  old  scale  (making;,  I  suppose,  the 
scale  called  by  the  Oreek>  the  scale  of  conjunct  tetra- 
chordsj  and  to  invent  melodies  conformed  thereto.  There- 
upon great  uproar  and  ilisseiision  anjse  in  tlie  schools  of 
the  musicians.  Many — and  they  were  venerable  men — 
denounced  the  new  soni^s,  sayini;  tlifv  were  lewd  ami  un- 
seeuUy  tor  the  worship  of  the  );oddess,  appealing  to  the 
senses  by  their  wicked  beauty  ;  also  saying,  the  goddeSH 
will  withdraw  her  presence  if  the  vain  inventions  of  lin 
men  are  intruded  into  her  sanctuary.  Many — and  they 
were  younger  men — saiil  thiit  the  goddess  had  wearied  of 
the  old  song,  and  hence  h;id  inspired  Mhi-nem  to  invent 
a  new  song.  Also,  they  said,  "If  the  new  song  is  nu)re 
beautiful  tiian  the  old,  it  is,  theiefore,  the  more  worthy  to 
olTer  to  the  goddess."  But  the  ])riests,  as  yet,  said 
nothing  pul)licly,  but  said  among  themselves,  "  Wait ;  we 
must  first  see  will  it  ])rotit  our  temple.  It  nmst  be  good 
if  it  brings  more  i)eople  to  our  services.  We  will  wait." 
Nor  did  the  goddess  vouchsafe  any  sign  of  her  pleasure. 
When  the  dissension  was  at  its  height,  the  priests,  to  set 
the  matter  at  rest,  gave  conunand  that  at  the  next  S(»lenui 
service  the  new  song  of  the  nuisician  Mhi-nem  should  be 
sung,  that  all  the  i)eople  might  see  and  judge  whether 
the  goddess  w(mld  accept  it  or  not. 

'  At  the  apjiointed  time  a  greater  nudtitude  than  ever 
presented  themselves  at  the  tem|)le  gales,  for  the  rumor 
of  the  dis.sension,  and  of  the  beauty  of  the  new  song  had 
spread  aI)road  over  tlie  whole  land.  And  many  ])ious 
came,  fearing  the  goddess  would  be  offended.  Many 
curious  came  to  .see  what  would  ha])])en  and  to  hear  the 
new  song.  So  tlie  treasury  was  filed  to  overflowing,  and 
the  hearts  of  the  priests  were  glad,  as  they  said  one  to 
another,  "  With  thi?  wealth  we  can  spread  the  fame  of  our 


-^^^ 


Scrah-k  Club.' 


goddess  through  the  whole  earth,  until  all  peopUj  believe 
in  her  and  us  only."  And  now,  as  ever  l)efore.  tlie  solemn 
procession  of  priests,  and  r.utsioians,  and  singers  entered 
the  temple  to  the  soinid  of  flutes,  and  cynd)als,  and  all 
instrun'ents  of  music,  and  moved  in  mystic  dance  nmnd 
the  feet  of  tlie  goddess,  and  swung  their  smoking  censers  ; 
and,  when  they  liad  ended,  rose  the  song — the  new  song 
of  Mhi-nem — from  the  clear  voices  of  the  youths  and 
maidens,  while  the  playeis  on  the  flute,  and  cymbals,  and 
sistrum,  and  crotalum  made  loud  nuisic  ;  and  when  the 
hymn  was  ended,  and  the  waiting  nuiliitude  gazed  with 
awe  upon  the  goddess,  suddenly,  with  more  brilliance 
tlian  ever,  forth  burst  the  sacrec.  flame  and  smoke  from 
the  mouth  and  nostrils  <>f  the  go  Idess.  and  the  people  fell 
on  their  faces  and  critd.  "  A.  pre  it -it  goddess." 

'  Then  spake  the  priests  :  "It  is  the  will  of  the  goddess 
that  she  be  served  with  the  new  song,  as  has  been  made 
l^lain  in  the  sight  of  all  men  ;  and  forasmuch  as  the  new 
song  is  liked  by  the  people,  wh'ch  has  caused  greater 
multitudes  than  ever  to  r^r■!embl^  themselves  in  her  tem- 
ple, to  the  honor  of  the  goddess  and  the  spread  of  our 
religion,  we  therefore  give  commandment  that  all  such  as 
are  skilled  in  music  shall  diligjutly  seek  out  and  ir.vent 

such  new  so  igs  as  they  may,  that  our  religion  may 

(here  there  is  a  piece  torn  off)  the  whole  world  be  1)rouglit 
<o  acknowledge  the  one  true " 


"After  this  I  could  oidy  pick  out  a  word  here  and 
there,  Init  I  tnink  the  most  important  part  of  the  MSS.  is 
before  you. 

"  Ever  smcerely  Vours, 

"I.    WORMALL,    D.C.Iv." 


Crabbe.  vSo  you  see  the  church  in  Egypt,  ten  thousand 
years  ago,  was  divided  on  the  music  question  ;  and  they 
settled  it  just  as  some  modern  churches  I  have  heard  of 
have  done. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Perhaps  t!,e  '.vhole  story  is  allegorical, 
and  is  meant  to  teach  that  the  outward  form  of  worship  is 


The  "  Scratch  Club  ' 


51 


all  pe()])iij  belirvfc 
l)L'f()rt',  the  solemn 
id  siiiji^tTs  (.■iileivil 
1  cymbals,  and  all 
ystif  dance  round 

smoking  censers  ; 
ng — the  new  sonj; 
f   llie   youths   aiul 

and  cymbals,  and 
ic  ;  and  when  the 
titude  gazed  with 
h  more  brilliance 
■  and  smoke  from 
?.\u\  the  people  fell 
iddess. ' ' 

,vill  of  the  goddess 
us  has  been  made 
imuch  as  the  new 
as  caused  greater 
selves  in  her  tem- 
the  spread  of  our 
nt  that  all  such  as 
.'ek  out  and  ir.vent 

religion  may 

i  world  be  l)rought 


a  word  here  and 
)art  of  the  MSS.  is 


LMALL,    D.C.L." 

ypt,  ten  thousand 
uestion  ;  and  they 
s  I  have  heard  of 

tory  is  allegorical, 
form  of  worship  is 


a  matter  o'"  indifference  to  the  superior  powers,  provided 
the  intenti(m  is  good. 

Cral'bc.  Is  "good  intention"  a  sun'icieut  warrant  for 
auj  c(mrse  of  action  ?  The  intention  of  those  worthy 
people  who  turn  their  chinches  into  a  "sacred  concert" 
room  may  be  good— that  is,  their  desire  to  bring  more 
l.eople  under  the  influence  of  picaching  ard  so  forth 
-but  it  may  be  questioned  if  they  are  justified  m  using 

such  means. 

Dr.  Coodman.  You  have  slightly  mi  .understood  my 
use  of  the  word.  I  iiuite  agree  with  you  aiat  musical  or 
any  other  display  is  to  be  reprehended  if  its  only  design  is 
to  draw  people  to  church.  It  is  always  a  shock  to  my 
feelings  to  see  the  musical  performances  that  our  churches 
vie  with  one  another  in  giving  at  Christmas  and  Ivaster 
advertised,  like  public  amusLMiients,  in  the  secular  papers. 
Do  not  understand  me  as  finding  fault  with  either  public 
concerts  or  secular  papers.  I  only  ol)ject  to  the  turning 
of  what  should  be  a  solemn  service  into  an  attraction  for 
the  idle  and  curious. 

Dal  ton.  I  have  heard  that  the  churches  that  do  not 
make  any  musical  display  are  nearly  deserted  on  the  fes- 
tivals 3'ou  mention. 

Crahbc.  It  is  nice  to  .see  the  papers  next  morning. 
Criticisms  on  the  church  music,  the  last  new  actress,  the 
variety  theatre,  side  by  side— as  they  ought  to  be,  when 
the  clurches  adopt  their  methods  of  advertising.  I  like 
that  Rhadamanthine  impartiality  of  the  papers. 

Dr.  Coodman.  Alas  !  It  is  hard  to  detect  all  the  insidi- 
ous wavs  in  which  evi'  will  get  itself  done  that  good  may 
come; 'evil  well  kn  .Ai  1-  all  the  time-wh  it  men  will 
never  learn,  apparently— that  the  good  will  never  come. 
It  is  the  ever  varying  form  of  the  temptation,  "  All  these 
things  will  I  give  thee,  if  thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship 


5- 


r/w" Scratch  C/kIk" 


me."  To  every  man  it  comes  some  time  or  anotlicr,  not 
only  in  religion,  hut  in  art,  in  politics,  in  business,  when 
he  is  lemi)te(l,  for  the  sake  of  the  good  end.  to  enijiloy  the 
questionable  expedient.  Let  us  separate  with  this  serious 
thought. 


EIGHTH  EVENING. 

Acoustics  and  Music.     Cmhhc  Aiiuounccs  His 
Discovery  of  a    Tliro)y  of  Color  Hannouy. 

CHE  evening's  discussion  was  commenced  by  tlie  fol- 
lowing remark  from  Dr.  Goodman  : 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  have  never  regretted  so  much  my 
ignorance  of  the  science  of  music  as  I  did  the  other  day 
when  reading  a  pamphlet  on  the  formation  of  the  scale. 
I  was  surpri.sed  to  learn  how  imperfect  our  scale  is  and 
how  easy  it  would  be  to  hni^rove  it.  It  seems  to  me— in 
fact,  I  have  seen  it  so  stated— that  music  is  largely  in- 
debted to  the  modern  discoveries  in  the  science  of  acous- 
tics. 

Ha::el.  Doctor,  you  have  started  such  a  large  subject 
that  it  is  difficult  to  know  where  to  begin  to  answer  you. 
First,  though,  as  to  the  .scale  ;  it  would  be  a  gain,  in 
some  ways,  to  have  a  scale  in  perfect  tune  ;  especially  is 
this  true  as  to  organs.  I  have  seen,  in  London,  an  organ 
in  the  Temple  Church  which  is  enharmonic  ;  it  certainly 
sounds  very  jjure,  but  the  difficulty  of  playing  it  is  im- 
mense. 


ab 
th; 
b.' 
is 
wl 
esl 
of 
sh 
of 
su 
tic 
th- 
us 
sil 
if 
be 
be 
be 
be 
ha 

UK 

re 
of 
so 
itti 
an 
sii 
lb 
nt 


an 
h£ 


''^-tt,  -       


The  "  Scmtcli  C/idr." 


53 


another,  not 

iiness,  wlien 

emjiloy  the 

this  serious 


'Hccs  His 
irmouy. 

by  the  fol- 

nuich  my 
:  other  clay 
f  the  scale, 
cale  is  and 
to  nie — in 
largely  in- 
2  of  acous- 

rge  subject 
iiswer  you. 
a  gain,  in 
specially  is 
1,  an  organ 
t  certainly 
g  it  is  im- 


Dalton.  I  think  the  best  way  out  of  the  discussion 
about  the  tempered  and  untenipered  scale  is  to  say  boldh' 
that  the  teni{)ered  scale  is  ever\-  \va\-  the  best,  l-'irst, 
b.'cause  it  is  the  only  H.:ale  in  which  a  system  of  harmony 
is  possible.  Harmonv — I  use  the  term  to  include  the 
whole  art  uf  comi)osition — is  based  o?i  the  possibility  of 
establishing  a  clo.se  relationshii)  among  a  definite  number 
of  scales,  alike  in  every  respect  but  pitch.  This  relaticii- 
ship  would  I)e  ir.'po.ssible  but  for  the  fact  that  the  series 
of  sounds  from  which  these  scales  are  formed  must  be 
such  that  they  may  enter  into  the  harmonic  combina- 
tions ;  i.e.,  the  chords  of  all  the  scales.  For  example, 
the  .sound,  G,  in  the  scale  of  C,  is,  in  our  .scale,  the  .same 
as  the  sound,  G,  in  the  .scale  of  Kl?  ;  it  is,  therefore,  pos- 
sible to  sound  in  succession  the  chords  of  C  and  E  b  ;  but 
if  this  G  is  tuned  perfectly  true  in  the  .scale  of  C,  it  would 
be  untrue  in  the  scale  of  E  i?  ;  therefore  the  connection 
between  these  chords  would  be  destroyed.  This  might 
be  continued  indefinitely,  and  its  logical  conclusion  would 
be  that  no  scale  i;>  related  to  any  other  scale,  and  \vc  would 
have  to  do  as  it  is  said  the  Greeks  did — tune  our  instru- 
ments Ml  whatever  key  we  wished  to  play  in.  The  .second 
re  :son,  and  the  best,  is  that  the  tempered  scale  is  the  .scale 
of  Bach,  Handel,  Haydn,  Mozart,  Beethoven,  Mendels- 
sohn, and  the  whole  host  of  those  who  have  raised  music  to 
its  high  place  among  the  fine  arts.  I  will  back  their  ear 
and  taste  against  all  the  acousticians,  armed  with  all  the 
sirens,  and  Sa^'art  wheels,  and  resonators,  and  tuning- 
forks  in  the  world,  as  to  what  sounds  well  and  what  does 
not. 

Crabbe.  Whew  !     Keep  your  temper,  Dalton. 

Dalion.  Oh,  I  can't,  when  a  man  who  measures  and 
analyzes  sounds  tells  me  he  can  improve  the  scale  that 
has  furnished  to  the  world  the  deathless  creations  of 


54 


Tim  "  Scratch  Cinl)." 


musical  genius.  "  Let  the  shoemaker  stick  to  his  last." 
Sounds,  no  matter  how  pure,  how  swett,  are  not  music. 
There  is  mcjre  music  in  the  worst  "  scratched"  quartette 
of  Mozart  than  there  would  be  in  the  most  faultless  en- 
harm  .nic  "  rendering  "  of— well,  the  major  part  of  mod- 
ern American  church  anthems,  let  us  say. 

Crabbc.  Oh,  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  !     Your  in- 
dignation evaporated  too  suddenly . 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  had  no  idea  I  should  rai.se  such  a  tem-  _ 
pest.  I  am  almost  afraid  to  ask  any  more  questions,  but 
haven't  the  acousticians  explained  the  composite  nature 
of  sounds,  and  the  origin  of  chords,  and  made  some  very 
curious  discoveries  of  what  are  called,  I  think,  residual 
tones  ;  that  is,  sounds  that  remain  in  the  ear  after  the 
sound  that  excited  them  has  ceased.  I  was  told  by  a 
well-known  physicist  that  this  discover^'  had  important 
bearings  on  melody.  I  understood  him  to  mean  that 
a  melody  would  be  agreeable  when  its  .sounds  were  linked 
by  these  residual  tones,  and  the  reverse.  :|^. 

Dalton.  To  begin  with  the  first  part  of  your  questmn  ; 
Yes,  Lhey  have  explained  the  composite  nature  of  sounds  ; 
they  have  not  quite  explained  the  origin  of  chords  ;  for 
instance,  the  theory  that  the  minor  chord  is  formed  b^  - 
combination  of  the  overtones  of  two  roots,     '''he  reason- 
ing by  which  it  is  attempted  to  prove  this  would  be  iust 
as  conclusive  if  applied  to  a  theory  that  it  was  a  combina- 
tion of  the  overtones  of  three  roots.'   Thus  the  chord  C, 
E  b,  G  results,  they  say,  from  a  comljination  of  the  over- 
tones of  C  and  K  i^.     True,  G  is  an  overtone  of  C  and  also 
of  E !?,  but  C  and  E  !?  are  overtones  of  A  t? ;  then  why 
not  say  that  C,  E  b-,  G  is  a  combination  of  the  overtones 
of  A  i?,    and   C?     Again,    C   is   an   overtone   of  F,    El? 
of  A  b!,  G  of  C,  then  the  chord  of  C  minor  is  a  combina- 
tion of  the  overtones  of  F,  A  b,  and  C.     This  sort  of  rea- 


son: 
tioii 
old 
exp 
he  ( 
tlia 
pre] 
Z 
torn 
her 
/ 
Mo 
due 
Tit 
froi 
col( 

I 
Gi\ 
an 
Th 
of  J 
ind 
wo 
tioi 
fes 

( 
ex] 
the 

l)Oi 

loc 
am 


J  % 


Tlie  "  Scratdi  Club." 


55 


his  last." 
not  music. 
'  quartette 
ultless  en- 
rt  of  mod- 

Your  in- 

uch  a  tem- 

:stions,  but 
site  nature 
:  some  very 
ik,  residual 
r  after  the 
)  told  by  a 
I  important 
mean  that 
were  linked 

r  question  ; 
>  of  sounds ; 
chords  ;  for 
brmed  b^  _ 
"^'he  reason- 
uld  be  iust 

a  combina- 
he  chord  C, 
of  the  over- 
f  C  and  also 

;  then  why 
le  overtones 
:   of  F,    Et? 

a  combina- 
;  sort  of  rea- 


soning may  be  made  to  prove  anything.  After  all,  ques- 
tions like  this  are  only  of  interest  to  the  acoustician.  The 
old  explanation  f  consonance  is  sufficient ;  that  is,  if  any 
explanation  is  needed.  The  musician  knows  what  sounds 
he  can  combine,  the  u'fiy  is  of  no  more  importance  to  him 
than  the  chemical  processes  by  which  his  pigments  are 
prepared  are  to  the  painter. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Well,  what  about  melody  and  residual 
tones?  Ma}'  there  not  be  some  gain  to  the  musician 
here  ? 

Dallon.  I  will  believe  it  when  I  hear  such  a  melody  as 
Mozart  or  Mendelssohn  have  made  constructed  by  a  de- 
duction from  this  theory.  As  well  expect  a  picture  like 
Titian's  or  Raphael's  to  come  into  existence  as  a  deduction 
from  the  undulatory  theory  of  light  and  the  vibrations  of 
colors. 

/;;-.  Croodman.  I  think  your  views  might  be  thus  stated  : 
Given,  a  science  ;  deduce  an  art ;  impossible.  Or,  given, 
an  art ;  reduce  it  to  scientific  terms  ;  equally  impo.ssible. 
There  is.  therefore,  no  science  of  music,  or  of  painting,  or 
of  sculpture,  or  of  poetr>%  but  all  these  arts  are,  in  a  sense, 
independent  of  the  material  world,  although  ba.sed  on  and 
working  through  matter,  in  accordance  with  the  limita- 
tions of  our  present  existence,  even  as  the  highest  mani- 
festations of  the  intellect  and  the  will  are  forced  to  do. 

Crabbc.  When  the  artist  finds  the  material  wherewith  to 
express  his  ideal,  his  concern  for  it  is  ended.  "Why"  is 
the  question  of  science,  not  of  art.  Art  admires  the  rain- 
liow,  and  is  content  with  any  or  no  account  of  it  ;  science 
looks  on  it  as  an  illustration  of  the  unequal  refrangibility 
and  dispersion  of  light. 

Dalton.  Crabbe  has  been  reading  Hugo,  and  has  im- 
bibed some  of  his  antithetical,  epigrannnatic  sententious- 
ness. 


5^' 


The  "  Scratch  CIu/k" 


Parks.     "Words    of   learned    length    and    thund<-rous 

sound." 

Crabhe.  Dalton,  you  said  sotnething  a  while  a^o  on  the 
vilmilions  of  colors  ;  it  has  su>,^gesled  a  hrillianl  discovery 
to  me.     It  uiiRht  he  of  great  help  to  the  iniinl  rs  if  they 
were  familiar  with  these  vihrations,  for  instance,  say,  of 
"Titian's  red."     If  they  knew  this  they  might  he  able  to 
"  tune  up"  some  of  their  reds  to  the  right  pitch.     Why 
should    not   the   i)ainler    "  harmoni/.e "    his    colors    ac- 
cording  to   the   ratios    of    their  vibrations,    as   well    as 
the  musician  his  sounds  ?     I  think  I  have  discovered  a 
profound  principle.     There  must  be  a  harmony  of  colors, 
precisely   like  the   harmony  of  .sounds.     Painters   have 
been  working  in  the  dark.     If  this  theory  were  elaborated 
it  would  put  an  end  forever  to  all  crude,  inharmonious 
blendings  and  contrastings  of  color.     Some  one  tried  to 
make  a  color  symphony  once,  but  failed  ;  it  must  have 
been  through  ignorance  of  the  "thorough  l)ass  "  of  color. 
I  believe  his  symphony  "  went  "  equally  well  backwards 
or  forwards. 

Parks  (sotto  voce).  Must  have  been  like  Wagner. 
Ocr/Vv.  Eh  !  what !  Don't  interrupt  me  !■  I  will  give 
you  an  outline  of  my  theory.  The  pitch  of  each  color 
being  determined,  its  compass  would  be  the  number  of 
shades  of  which  it  is  capable— its  pianos  and  fortes,  its 
different  intensities.  As  there  are  three  primary  colors, 
we  might  have  three  scales— the  natural,  red,  the  color  of 
lowest  vibration  rate.  Natural,  we  call  it,  because  "  ce- 
lestial rosy  red"  is  the  pleasantest  of  all  colors.  Then 
the  unnatural,  yellow,  the  jaundice  color,  shade  of  envy, 
jealousy,  and  .so  on.  Last,  the  supernatural,  blue.  Hu- 
manity has  already  discovered  that  this  is  the  right  key  for 
the  supernatural.  Witness  the  familiar  sayings  :  ' '  Every- 
thing looks  blue,"  as  an   antithesis  to  "Everything  is 


thund<  rous 

a^o  on  the 
X  discovL-ry 
I  IS  if  llicy 
ice,  say,  of 
t  be  able  to 
itch.     Why 

colors  ac- 
as  well  as 
iscovered  a 
y  of  colors, 
inters  have 
L'  elaborated 
harmonious 
one  tried  to 

nnist  have 
,s  "  of  color. 
[  backwards 

u;ner. 

1  will  give 
f  each  color 

number  of 
id  fortes,  its 
niary  colors, 

the  color  of 
because  ' '  ce- 
)lors.  Then 
ade  of  envy, 
.,  blue.  Hu- 
rif^ht  key  for 
jj;s  :  "  Kvery- 
iverything  is 


///(  "  Scriihh  Club." 


5; 


rosy,"  or,  as  we  sa\ ,  such  a  one  looks  "  blue,"  when  we 
would  say  he  looks  as  far  as  i>ossil)le  from  his  natural 
condition.  J  need  not  muUii)ly  illustrations,  but  will 
only  refer  to  "bine  Monday,"  "blue  Idazes,"  "blue 
stocking,"  "lilue  ruin." 

Diilloit.  For  pity's  sake,  stop.  When  _vou  get  hold  of 
an  al)snrd  notion  you  are  like  a  colt  turned  out  at  grass. 

Crabbe.  I  am  serious.  I  see  dimly  the  outlines  of  a 
glorious  science  that  will  do  for  ])ainters  what  thorough 
bass  has  done  for  musicians.  Your  sui)ercilious  cavils 
will  not  hinder  me  from  developing  it. 

Hazel.  vSilence  is  the  best  soil  in  which  to  rear  such 
delicate  ])lants. 

Crabbe.  With  my  usual  generosity,  I  wanted  all  my 
friends  to  share  in  the  glory  of  this  discovery.  You  have 
missed  your  best  chance  for  immortality.  I  .shall  begin 
the  study  of  optics  to-morrow.  This  is  the  plan  on  which 
I  shall  work  :  I  will  question  all  my  lady  friends  (who 
know  more  about  it  than  the  ])ainters,  and  are  not  ham- 
pered by  any  "theories  of  color"),  and.  by  comparing 
their  opinions,  will  construct  my  tal)le  of  contra.sts  and 
combinations  ;  then  determine  the  vibration  rate  of  each 
color  ;  and  then — the  rest  is  easy. 

Palton.  Don't  go  on.  Some  of  us  might  try  to  antici- 
pate your  discoveries.     Better  — 

Crabbe.  vSlop  !  I  have  changed  my  plan.  I  will  study 
ojitics  first,  and  deduce  my  rules  for  painting  from  the 
laws  of  liglit  and  color.  This  will  give  a  scientific  basis 
to  painting,  and  will  be  in  the  line  of  those  philosophers 
who  say  the  rules  of  musical  coniiH)sition  can  be  deduced 
from  the  laws  of  acoustics.  Just  think  of  it !  The  day 
may  come  when  we  will  be  able  to  .state  a  symphony  or 
picture  in  algebraic  symbols,  and  there  will  be  nothing 
left  for  those  troublesome,  conceited  creatures,  who  think 


■H 


58 


The  "Scriilih  Club. 


they  are  "  inspired,"  to  do  but  to  translate  the  fonnuke 
of  the  niatheinaticiau  into  notes  and  colors. 

Hazel.  I  begin  to  see  what  you  ore  taking  such  a  roinid 
about  way  to  arrive  at. 

Parks.  He  made  it  up  before  he  came  here,  and  is  lr\- 
Ing  to  pass  it  of}"  as  "extempore." 

Palton  (coming  t)Ut  of  '  re\eiie).  What  the  ))lays  and 
toys  of  childhood  are  to  that  happy  period  of  life,  art  is  to 
children  of  ;i  larger  growth — a  something  to  which  the 
emotions  and  Ihe  imagination  can  give  themselves  up 
without  any  (juestionings  ;  a  loophole,  through  which  we 
get  glimpses  of  a  world  in  which  tiie  hard  pitiless  laws 
of  science  are  unknown.  Or,  science  binds  us  to  the  uni- 
verse of  matter;  art  sets  us  frve.  :i:id  introduces  us  to  a 
world  above  the  laws  ot  matter. 

Crabbc.  Or,  .science  is  the  school  where  the  stern  mas- 
ter, with  hateful  textbook,  sways  his  birchen  sceptre,  and 
spares  not,  lest  he  .->liould  spoil  the  child.  Art  is  the 
Cliristmas  pantomime,  where  the  ordinary  rules  and  re- 
'■•po.isibilities  of  life  are  abrogated,  where  the  turkeys  run 
about  ready-cooked,  with  knife  and  fork  under  their  wing, 
and  the  loaves  nnd  fishes  come  in  at  the  window  or  down 
the  chimney  without  the  intervention  of  the  baker  or 
fishwife,  and  — 

Dalloii.  Do  you  think  you  have  improved  on  my  dis- 
course? 

Crabbc.  By  no  means.  Would  I  had  that  poetic  gift ! 
I  have  oidy  brouglit  it  down  to  ordinary  understandings. 

Dr.  Goodman.  What  has  possessed  >ou  two  this  even- 
ing? You  have  had  a  talking  match  all  to  yourselves, 
and  have  been  .sparring  nearly  all  vl.e  time.  Haze)  ^ooks 
as  if  his  thoughts  were  in  cloud  land,  and  Parks  is  asleep 
with  his  mouth  open.  Revise  hira,  Hazel,  and  let  us  be 
off. 


fai 
nu 


H; 

bu 

a*; 

prt 

sio 

gO( 

wr 


he  fonmike 

ch  a  round - 

and  is  try 

:  ))la\'S  and 
ife,  art  is  to 
)  whicli  the 
msclves  up 
h  which  we 
litiless  laws 
i  to  the  uni- 
ices  us  to  a 

C!  stern  mas- 
sceptre,  and 
Art  is  the 
Lilcs  and  re- 
turkeys  run 
•  their  wing, 
ow  or  down 
le  baker  or 

1  on  my  dis- 

poetic  gift ! 
erstandings. 
o  this  evei.- 
yourselves. 
Haze!  ^ooks 
rks  is  asleep 
i;d  let  us  be 


The  "  Scmlclt  Clubr 


59 


ffazcl.  I  have  been  dreaming  with  my  eyes  open  ;  per- 
haps I  will  tell  you  my  dream — or  parable,  let  me  lall  it 
— sometime. 

Da/Ion.  GiMjd  !  Remember,  we  are  to  have  Hazel's 
parable  first  tiling  at  our  next  meeting. 

Crabhc.  Will  you  "o[kmi  your  parable  "  on  the  piano? 
as  you  don't  play  the  harp. 

Dr.  Cioodnian.  Hold  your  railing  tongue,  and  come 
away.     Parks,  ".shake  off  dull  .sleep,"  and  join  us. 

Crabbe.  Parks  looks  like  an  anaconda  just  fed,  or  as  I 
fancy  the  prodigal  son  did  after  he  had  made  a  "square 
meal  "  on  tlie  fatted  calf. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Oh,  slux:king  !     You  are  intolerable. 


NINTH  EVENING. 

AMore  Discussion  on   Vocal  and  Instrumental 

Music, 

AS  soon  as  the  playing  was  over  this  evening  Mr.  Dal- 
ton  called  on  Mr.  Hazel  to  produce  his  parable,  but 
Hazel  excused  himself  on  the  plea  that  he  had  been  too 
busy  to  finish  writing  it,  but  would,  without  fail,  read  it 
at  the  next  -neeting.  The  conversation,  after  various  ex- 
pressions of  disappointment,  gradually  settled  to  a  discus- 
sion .p  instruments  and  their  combinations. 

Parks.  Why  is  it  that  so  few  have  succeeded  in  writing 
good  strings  compositions,  even  among  those  who  have 
written  good  oi)eras  and  good  orchestral  compositions  ? 


;i| 


M 


Go 


Till-  "Srmti/i  Cliibr 


Dalkm.  Simply  becausL-  it  is  so  much  harder  to  be  in- 
tcrestitijj;  with  only  four  strings.  The  nuiltiplied  contrasts 
of  (|iiality  in  tlie  tone  of  tlic  instninK'nts  in  a  full  orchestra 
serve  to  cover  ])MUcity  of  ideas,  and  will  even  give  effect- 
iveness to  coinnion]>laces. 

Crabhc.  Vonr  modern  composer  understands  that  well. 
Whenever  he  feels  that  his  audience  are  getting  sleepy  he 
skilfully  brings  in  a  solo  passage  for  the  cyinl)als  or  a 
flash  of  lightning  from  a  piccolo,  to  rouse  them  and  make 
the  injudicious  exclaim,  "  How  fine  !  " 

Dr.  (nwdnuxn.  In  what  order  do  sou  musicians  rank 
nutsical  compositions  ?  I  mean,  what  do  you  consider  the 
highest  examples  of  the  art  ? 

/hiNtvi.  Well,  I  suppose  Parks  would  put  opera  first  ; 
Hazel,  oratorio.  My  iirivate  opinion  is  that  the  compo- 
sititms  for  string  instruments  alone  fill  the  highest  place  ; 
next,  those  for  string  instruments  and  piano  ;  then  the 
symphony ;  then  the  oratorio ;  then  the  opera  ;  after 
these,  the  deluge  of  music  that  covers  the  world. 

Hazel.  I  think  you  draw  the  lines  too  hard  and  fast ; 

an  oratorio  of  Handel  or  an  ojiera  of  Mozart  is  as  great 

a  woik  of  genius  as  any  string  composition  in  existence. 

Palton.  True.     But  I  base  my  classification  on  the  fact 

that  only  a  few — and  those  the  greatest — have  succeeded 

in  this  form  ;  and  it  is  a  confirmation  of  my  opinion  that 

those   who   have   succeeded   in    this  form   are   also   the 

greatest   in   all   other  forms  of  composition — the  string 

composition,  with  or  without  piano.     The  oratorio,  the 

s\mphony,  the  opera,  the  mass  treated  like  an  oratorio 

— these  all  suggest  the  names  of  Haydn,  Mozart,  lieetho- 

ven  in  the  first  rank  ;  Mendelssohn,  Schumaini,  Schubert, 

who,  if  not  in  all  respects  in  the  first  rank,  are  very  near 

it.     I  purposely  omit  Handel,  as  he  lived  before  the  days 

of  chamber  music  in  its  modern  forms.     Now  the  multi- 


a 

I> 
\> 
ei 

f( 
ni 
ai 
si 
ni 

m 
tl 

VJ 

til 
ai 
it; 
ev 

lo 

at 
an 


T' 


Till-  "Scratch  Club:' 


6i 


to  he  in- 
1  contrasts 
1  orchestra 
ivL'  elTcct- 

that  well. 
:  sleepy  he 
il)als  or  a 
ami  make 

:ians  rank 
•nsidcr  the 

per  a  first : 
he  compo- 
lest  place  ; 
;  then  the 
era  ;  after 
d. 

and  fast ; 
is  as  great 
existence, 
on  the  fact 

succeeded 
Mnion  that 
e  also  the 
-the  string 
ratorio,  the 
m  oratorio 
rt,  lieetho- 
,  Schubert, 
e  very  near 
re  the  days 
•  the  multi- 


tude of  writers  who  have  attained  a  deservedly  hi^Ii  rank 
as  opera  writers  is  a  proofthat  it  is,  (•()ni])are(l  witli' writing 
a  good  (juartette,  an  easy  thing  to  writf  a  good  opera. 

Crahbc.  \  tliink  tlie  hest  test  is  the  comparative  j^opu- 
lanty  ol  tlie  various  forms  of  composition.  A  thousand 
like  an  opera  whc-re  a  hundred  like  a  svmphonv  or  an 
..ratorio  or  lour  like  a  (piartette,  because  the  merit  of  art 
hears  always  an  inverse  i)ro].ortion  to  its  i)opularit\ . 

Parks.  lUit  if  it  is  tlic  mission  of  art  to  j.rovide  refnied 
anuisement,  does  it  not  follow  that  the  form  of  art  that 
provides  amusement  for  the  largest  numl.cr,  provided  it 
IS  not  immoral,  is  the  best  art,  and  the  worthiest  to  be 
encouraged  ? 

Paltou.  I  have  said  uotliing  about  encouraging  any 
form  of  art.  Tlie  qu.-stion  .it  present  is,  "  Which  is  tlie 
most  refined  form  of  this  amusement?"  if  it  be  only  an 
amu.sement.  I  blame  no  one  for  not  liking  (luartctte  mti 
SIC,  I  merely  pity  his  lack  of  a  sense  that  gives  me  so 
much  pleasure. 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  am  glad  you  are  not  one  of  those  rabid 
musicians  who  look  upon  all  the  world  who  do  not  accept 
their  dicta  as  fools  and  willfully  blind. 

Hazel.  In  which  category  do  you  jnit  the  concertos  for 
various  solo  instruments  with  orchestral  accompaniments  ? 

Dalton.  With  a  few  exceptions,  I  don't  like  any  of 
them.  I  particularly  dislike  the  combination  of  liiaiio 
and  orchestra  ;  the  piano  suffers  too  much  in  the  union. 
Its  powers  of  expression  are  so  limited  and  its  .sounds  ,so 
evanescent. 

Crabbc.  Yes  ;  the  orchestra  always  seems  to  stoop  a 
long  way  down  to  encourage  the  poor  tinkler. 

Daltou.  Then  there  is  something  crude  and  mechanical 
about  the  form  of  the  concerto  :  the  alternation  of  ,solo 
and  tutti,  with  the  same  theme,  grows  monotonous ;  in- 


SJ£l 


62 


The  "  Scrakli  Cluh." 


,lcf(l,  the  audic-nce  Kciurally  s^tin  lo  Uiiuk  tlu'  luttis  are 
put  ill  to  tiivc  tluiii  an  oppoiluuily  to  apphmd,  a»  opinion 
in  which  the  soloist  too  oltcn  coiiifidcs. 

Ifazel.   Ihope  you  don't  include  all  concertos  in  your 

strictures. 

Dnilon.  I  said  at  the  heKniuiitiK  that  there  were  some 

exce])tions. 

Cnil>l»\  Hazel,  you  are  an  excellent  l)ufrer  to  break  the 
force  of  Dalton's  sweeping;  criticisms, 

Pallou.  There  is  hut  one  instrument  that  can  hohl  its 
own  a^^ainst  the  r)rchestra— that  is  the  voice. 

Parks.  I  remenil)er  you  said  once  that  the  voice  was 
not  to  he  compar.-d  with  other  instruments,  it  was  so 

inferior. 

Da/ton.  All  artificial  instruments  form  a  republic,  of 
which  the  violin  is  president.  The  human  voice  is  not  a 
member  of  this  republic,  and  therefore  not  to  be  judged 

by  its  laws. 

ParL's.  That  sounds  like  an  admission  of  its  superiority. 

Dalton.  It  does  not  follow  that  because  it  is  indepen- 
dent of  the  rules  that  govern  other  instruments  that  it  is 
therefore  superior;  independence  sometimes  means  infe- 

rioritv. 

Crabbe.  Yes ;  for  example,  college  boys  are  not  held 
accountable  to  the  same  laws  by  which  grown  men  have 
to  regulate  their  conduct. 

Dr.  Goodman.  What  is  your  opinion  about  instrumen- 
tal solos?  Do  you  include  them  in  the  same  category  as 
the  concertos? 

Dalton.  I  think  the  piano  is  the  solo  instrument  par 
excclhncc.  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  all  other  instru- 
ments require  an  accompaniment.  But  there  is  a  better 
reason.  It  is  the  only  instrument  in  which  melody,  har- 
mony, accompaniment,  and  expression  are  under  the  con- 


trol 

wli 

I 

I 

( 

liki 

/ 

( 

lik' 

Hi 

{\k 

aiK 

sel 

cai 

ex; 

fur 

ter 

wo 

pic 

coi 

ad 

wi 

COI 

is 
let 
ral 
in 

ye 
qil 

JL- 

wi 
sw 


The  "Sinttili  Clubr 


^>3 


•  tuttis  are 
:in  opinion 

OS  in  your 

were  some 

J  break  Iht.' 

m  hold  its 

c  voice  was 
it  was  so 

c'publif,  of 

ice  is  not  a 

he  jmlged 

superiority, 
is  indepen- 
ts  that  it  is 
means  infe- 

re  not  held 
n  men  have 

instrumcn- 
category  as 

trument  par 
Dther  instni- 
;  is  a  better 
iielody,  har- 
ider  the  con- 


trol of  one  r.iiiid.      Il   i^   Hk'  only  single  instrument  on 
which  a  complete  composition  can  be  played, 

Hazel.  All  of  which  !■>  c(|nally  true  of  the  orKan. 

nallon.   Vcs  ;   barring  the  e.\p^es^ion. 

Ciabln.  Oh,  yes,  says  the  shoemaker,  "  There  is  nothin^{ 
like  leather." 

rarks.   What  do  you  mean  ? 

Cnihbf.   Why,  y<m  and  Dalton   think   there  is  nothinj; 
like  ])iano— I  bejj  your  pardon,  the  voice  is  your  eidolon, 
lla/el  thinks  there  is  nothing  like  orj^an.     Now  I  think 
there   is  nothin.n  like  fiddle,  especially  the  tenor  fiddle, 
and  Dalton's  argument  abotit  one  man  power  is  all  non 
sense.      Doesn't  it  follow  that  four  men  full  of  expression 
can  ^el  out  four  times  as  much  of  it  as  one  man   full  of 
exi)re.ssion  ?      'iMien    the    fourfold    variety   of  exjjression 
furnishes  a  much  wider  field  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  lis- 
teners than  the  unifold  ( I  am  not  sure  there  is  such  a 
word  ;   I  claim  it,  if  there  is  not).     With  regard  to  the 
piano  being  the  oidy  instrument  that  one  man  can  play  a 
complete  composition  on,  I  admit  its  truth  ;  but  is  it  an 
advantage?     Why,  put  four  men  at  a  cpiartette,  and  they 
will  get  more  out  of  it,  and  put  more  int<.  it,  too,  than  the 
compo.scr  ever  dreamed  of.     As  for  the  organ,  I  think  it 
is  not  without  meaning  that  a  slight  transposition  of  the 
letters  make  it  "  groan."     There  is  an  occult,  supernatu- 
ral origin  of  names,  and  wise  men  of  old  put  great  faith 
in  anagrams,  which  we,  in  our  conceit,  despise. 

Dalton.  Crabbe,  you  came  into  the  world  a  thousand 
years  too  late.  That  speech  is  just  in  the  rambling, 
quasi-argumentative,  wholly  foolish  vein  of  a  court 
jester. 

Crabhc.  Ah,  well  !  We  need  a  counterpoise  to  your 
wisdom  ;  or,  rather,  a  counter-levity.  We  w  ^uld  all  be 
swamped  else. 


64 


The  "  Srnittli   C!ii'\ 


I 


rark.i.  I  would  like  to  stay  ;  it  is  such  fun  to  he  .r  you 
two  growl  at  each  other  ;  but  it  is  too  late. 

Dr.  Coodman.  I  think  1  shall  have  to  take  to  runuii.g 
away  when  you  get  at  loggerheads.  I  am  tired  of  the 
office  of  peacemaker. 

Crabbc.  I  am  sorry,  Doctor,  to  see  you  shirk  one  of  the 
duties  of  the  Chri.stian  minister  that  is  i)ronounced  espe- 
cially blessed.  I'll  go  with  you,  and  reason  with  yon 
about  it. 


TENTH  EVENING. 


Hazel  Reads  an  AIh\<r(}}-y. 

AFTER  this  evening's  music,  Hazel,  without  waiting 
to  be  called  on,  jirodnced  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of 
manuscript  of  such  portentoiis  dimensions  that  the  club 
was  somewhat  alarmed,  and  was  only  reassured  on  his 
protesting  that  it  would  not  take  more  than  half  an  hour 
to  read  it.  After  each  one  had  lit  -i  cigar  and  settled 
himself  in  the  most  comfortable  chair  he  could  find  (  Parks 
stretched  himself  on  the  sofa),  Hazel  proceeded  to  read  as 
follows  : 

"  Long  ago  before  the  ages  of  history  were  born,  there 
dwelt  on  a  wide,  well-watered  plain  that  spread  away 
to  the  horizon  from  the  foot  of  a  lofty  moinitani  range,  a 
happy  people,  scattered  in  small  villages  over  its  wide 
extent.     They  were  simple-minded  and   ignorant  ;   they 


1 


The  "Scratch  Club:' 


65 


Lin  to  he  .r  you 

ikc  to  niniiii..u: 
m  tired  of  the 

hirk  one  of  the 
jnounced  espe- 
ason  with  vou 


ivithout  waiting 
locket  a  roll  of 
IS  that  the  chih 
eassured  on  his 
in  half  an  hour 
i!;ar  and  settled 
ould  find  ( Parks 
ceded  to  read  as 


rt'ere  horn,  there 
lat  spread  away 
:)unlain  range,  a 
;s  over  its  wide 
ignorant ;  they 


thought  that  the  mountains,  that  stood  like  sentinels  over 
the  plain,  marked  the  Loundaries  of  the  world.  Here 
they  had  dwelt  for  ages  in  content  and  .security,  knowing 
nothing  of  the  world  that  lay  beyond  these  mountain 
ramparts  or  l)eyon(l  the  sea  that  embraced  in  its  litpiid 
circle  llie  greater  part  of  the  plain.  Their  days  were 
.spent  in  tending  their  flocks  or  in  .sowing  and  reaping 
Die  fields  that  .stretched  in  gentle  undulations  on  every 
side  of  the  villages.  ,Stretched  on  couches  of  fragrant 
heather,  their  nights  l^rought  hours  of  sweet  repose  that 
restored  strength  to  the  tired  limbs  worn  with  their  daily 
toil.  Generations  jiassed,  nor  wished  nor  thoi  ght  of 
change.  High  up,  in  one  of  the  inaccessible  peaks  of 
the  mountains,  dwelt  a  bright  spirit  called  Kallitekne. 
Her  dwelling  was  in  a  sniall  cave,  jewelled  with  gems 
wrought  by  the  fairy  fingers  of  the  frost  into  strange 
and  beautiful  shapes,  which  gleamed  and  burned  under 
tlic  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  and  Hashed  back  with  un- 
diminished lustre  the  crimson  hues  of  ids  parting  glance. 
This  s])irit  knew  all  the  .secrets  that  are  hidden  in  words, 
and  colors,  and  sounds  ;  her  magic  touch  could  transform 
the  lowliest  objects,  till  they  seemed  transfused  with 
divine  beauty.  The  common  words  with  which  men 
speak  of  conuuon  things,  her  wand  transformed  into  po 
etry.  The  colors  that  the  prodigal  sun  scattered  .so 
lavishly  on  cloud  and  hilltop,  or  on  forest  and  flower,  she 
seized  and  transmuted  them,  and  they  became  painting. 
She  caught  tlie  sounds  that  rose  from  the  hum  of  village 
life,  or  murmured  in  the  trees,  or  prattled  in  the  countless 
sjjrings  that  descended  the  mountain  sloi:)es,  and  they  be- 
came music.  But  poetry,  painting,  and  music  were  as 
yet  unknown  to  man.  Willing  was  Kallitekne  to  impart 
her  gifts  to  men.  but  the  time  was  not  come,  and  she 
would  be  sought  with  ])atient,  loving  perseverance,  lest 
her  gifts  should  be  inulervalued.  In  a  large  cave,  deep 
in  the  recesses  of  the  mountain,  bare  of  ornament,  and 
unlit  save  by  straggling  ra>  s  of  feeble  light,  that  came, 
one  could  not  say  from  where,  dwelt  another  spirit,  of 
severe  but  benign  aspect.  This  s])irit  knew  all  the  secrets 
of  earth,  air,  and  water.  He  weighed  the  winds  and  saw 
their  viewless  path.     He  knew  the  forces  that   bound 


66 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


toecther  each  tinv  atom  in  all  the  substances  tha    bull 
utfile  universe.    -He  kt.ew  how  the  mouutam  peaks  had 
L ro  vn  in  such  iantastic  lornis  ;  how  the  wule  phuus  had 
S   oiled  out  at  the,r  base      He  had  wrested  its  sec  re 
from  the  liglitning  flash  ;  had  measured  the  abysses  tha 
dTvde  the  stars.     AH  nature  was  to  Inm  an  op.n  lx.ok  in 
n  familiar  lauffuage      Willin-,  too,  was  he  to  impart  his 
gif  r  o  mau'lmt'oiily  on  the  inexorable  condition  th.it 
fhey  be  sought  with  patience,  submission,  and,  if  need 
,e   suffering   for  thus  only  can  his  gitts  be  ob  aiued  and 
priml  at  their  true  value.      From  time   to   tune     here 
r,u\d  arise  clear-eyed  men,  into  whose  souls  ^^^^ 
some  thoughts  bevoud  the  contented  life  ot  the  plain, 
such  ;vould  look  longingly  toward  tlu.  ^Unu  hke  i>eaks 
where  dwelt  the  spirit,   Kalhtekne.     bhe,  ever  read>   to 
elp  the  earnest  suppliant,  would  breathe  on  them  sonie 
of  her  iiiagic  power.     Then,    like  children   learning  to 
talk,  or  like  lips  trying  to  speak  an   unfamiliar  tongue 
hey  would,  in  l^rokeii  numbers,  stainmer.ng   a."    leeb  e 
at  first,  but  ever  increasing  m  strength    speak  to  the 
fellow   men   of  the   heroic   deeds   of   old   days;   of   the 
march  of  sun,  moon,  stars,  and  seasons;   of  the  winter 
s  orm,  that  clothed  the  peaks  with  snow  ;  of  the  spring 
that  brought  the  swallow  and  the  nightingale  ;  or  ol  the 
daily  avocations  of  farm  and  field,  of  s  lepherd  and  hun- 
ter \mtil  their  hearts  glowed,   and  al    common   things 
were  suffused  with  a  glory  not  of  earth.     Others-like 
Jhem  yet  different-who  looked  lovingly  on  the  changing 
tints  of  meadow  and  forest  as  the  cloud  shadows  sw-^p 
over  them,  or  watched  the  swift-changing  splendors  tha 
srlowed  on  the  mountain  crests  at  rise  or  set  of  sun  until 
the  secret  of  their  l)eauty  possessed  their  lumo.st  sense 
they,  with  patient  labor,  .sought  for  colored  earths,  and 
gum=,  and  juices  of  plants  ;  and,  such  is  the  migh   of  the 
tpirit's  gift,  with  these  poor  materials,  <-aught  and  fixed 
on  wall  or  canvas  the  trembling  hues  of  sunset   or  the 
wide  stretches  of  heathery  upland,  with  pool  and  brook 
era/ing  herd  and  flock.     And  men   lound  a  beauty  m 
these  things,  whose  existence  they  had  never  even  sus- 
Dected      There  were  yet  oth-rs  filled  with  vague  longnigs 
that  neither  the  living  wo.--  .;  of  the  poet  nor  the  vivid 


col« 

son 

sirt 

clif 

it  a 

nig 

me 

thi: 

wii 

the 

anc 

no 

the 

Th 

'T 

we 

the 

res 

Th 

the 

ble 

spt 

del 

of! 

ma 

me 

sin 

tlu 

fro 

flii 

eac 

th( 

for 

res 

gn 


s  that  built 
11  peaks  had 
J  plains  had 
;d  its  secret 
diysses  that 
pell  lM)ok  in 
)  impart  his 
ndition  that 
iiid,  if  need 
ibtained  and 
time   there 

had  entered 
)f  the  plain, 
idlike  peaks 
ver  ready  to 
,  them  some 

learning  to 
iliar  timgue, 
r  and  feeble 
)eak  to  their 
.ays  ;  of  the 
)f  the  winter 
f  the  spring, 
le  ;  or  of  the 
jrd  and  hun- 
nnion   things 

Others— like 
the  changing 
iiailows  swept 
[)lendors  that 

of  sun  until 
inmost  sense, 
d  earths,  and 
i  might  of  the 
;lit  and  fixed 
sunset,  or  the 
ol  and  brook, 
i  a  beauty  in 
ver  even  sus- 
ague  longings 

nor  the  vivid 


'///<■  "  Srni/f/i  Club.' 


67 


colors  of  the  painter  could  satisfy.  They  listened  ever  for 
some  voice  that  should  give  form  to  tlieir  shadowy  de- 
sires ;  when  the  summer  thunder  rattled  through  the 
cliffs,  filling  other  men's  hearts  with  dread,  they  heard  in 
it  a  hint  of  what  they  sought  ;  when,  in  the  cool  spring 
nights,  the  niglitingales  made  earth  and  air  vocal  with 
melody,  they  thought  '  the  voice  we  seek  must  be  like 
this  ;'  they  listened  to  Uie  melancholy  nuinnur  of  the 
wind  in  the  tail  pines,  the  gentle  prattle  of  the  fountains, 
the  roar  of  the  torretits,  the  .songs  of  the  birds,  tlie  laugh 
and  shout  of  happy  chiKlren,  and  found  in  all  a  hint,  but 
no  more,  of  what  they  sought.  Beautiful  as  were  all 
these  .sounds,  the  si)irit  Kallitekne  dwelt  not  \\\  them. 
Then  they  grew  weary  with  unsatisfied  longing,  and  said  : 
'  There  is  an  ideal  which  can  never  be  found  in  this  life  ; 
we  must  wait  until  we  pass  througli  the  gate  of  death,  to 
the  land  beyond  the  mountain  tops,  wiiere  the  sun  goes  to 
rest  when  he  draws  his  goulen  curtains  around  him.' 
Then  the  spirit  Kallitekne  took  pity  o  •.  them  and  inspired 
them  with  new  hope,  and  they  found  that,  from  the  hum- 
l)le  materials  tliat  lay  about  them,  they  ccmld  evoke  a 
.spell  to  satisfy  their  dce])est  longings,  that  even  the  gran- 
deur of  the  thunder  and  the  torrent  or  the  sweetest  notes 
of  the  nightingale  did  not  possess.  Then  from  the  river's 
margin  they  cut  reeds,  from  which  they  drew  v  )tes  r,iore 
mellow  than  the  thrushes  ;  from  the  fibres  of  plants,  the 
sinews  of  animals,  they  twisted  strings,  and  stretched 
them  on  the  empty  shell  of  the  tortoise,  and  drew  .sounds 
from  them  that  could  cheat  sorrow  to  repose  or  rouse  the 
f-iint-hearted  to  deeds  of  valor.  Thus  the  arts  began  ; 
each  one,  taking  the  common  things  of  life,  transformed 
them  in  the  alembic  of  the  luunan  .soul,  and  they  came 
forth,  dowered  with  eternal  youth  and  beauty,  as  from  a 
resurrection  that,  leavi.ig  the  perishable  body  in  the 
grave,  springs  forth  the  imperishable,  luidying  spirit. 

"Men  also  aro.se,  of  grave,  tiioughtful  a.spect,  who 
looked  on  the  heavens  and  the  earth  and  saw  their  won- 
ders ;  the  circling  course  of  planets,  the  waxing  and 
waning  of  moons,  the  rush  of  comets,  and  the  faint  gleam 
of  nebuke  ;  they  marked  the  gathering  of  the  thunder- 
clouds and  watched  the  whirling  patn  of  the  storm  ;  they 


68 


The  "  Scratr/i  Club." 


noted  the  passage  of  birds,  the  ways  of  animals,  the 
growth  of  plant,  1)lossom,  and  frnii ;  they  pondered 
much  on  the  strange  forn)s  and  varit'd  colors  that  were 
stamped  on  the  weather  beaten  scarp  of  the  nunuitains  ; 
they  looked  witli  clear-searching  eyes  on  their  fellow  men, 
and  were  ever  questioning— earth,  air,  and  sky  ;  bird, 
beast  and  rock  ;  all  men  and  themselves—'  Why  are  these 
things  so  ?     Where  shall  we  look  for  an  answer? ' 

"Then  they  remembered   the  spirit  that  dwelt  in  the 
silence  of  the  unlit  cavern,  waiting  and  i)atient.     To  him 
they  went  to  seek  the  reasons  of  all  things.     But  he  said  : 
•  It'  is  forlndden  that  man  should  know  the  secrets  of 
nature  except  he  wrest  them  from  her  by  patient  toil. 
But  I  breathe  on  you  my  spirit  of  power ;  thus  aided, 
there  is  no  hidden,  most-cherished  secret  of  earth,  air,  or 
sky;  of  bird,  beast,  or  plant;  or  even  of  man  himself, 
that  you  caiuiot  penetrate,   save  only  the  myste;-y   tliat 
forever  separates  the  thing  made  from  the  Maker.'     With 
these  words  the  spirit  placed  in  the  hand  of  each  one   a 
torcii,  with  ray  so  feeble  and  uncertain  one  could  scarcelv 
say  it    burned,    and   continued  :    '  This   torch   is   called 
Akriba.     Husband  it  v  ith  jealous  care  ;  walk  l)y  its  light 
with  steadfast  steps  ;   fear  not  to  go  wherever  its  light 
may  lead.    If  you  preserve  truth  it  will  grow  ever  brighter, 
until  it  hlls  the  world  with  its  light.     If  false  to  your 
trust,  it  will  be  quenched,  and  deeper  darkness  will  wrap 
tne  world,  that  is  waiting,  and  has  waited,  and  must  for 
years  wait  for  your  guidance.     Then  the.se  men  went  forth 
endowed  with' the  power  of  this  spirit  and  guided  by  the 
light  of  their  torches.    Through  many  years  they  watched, 
and   waited,    and   pondered,    ev(.r  hopeful    and  patient, 
though  often  reviled,  and  persecuted,   and  even  put  to 
death  by  their  fellow  men.     Yet  they  foinid  worthy  suc- 
cessors, and  passed  the  torch  on  when  their  hand  grew 
too  feeble  to  hold  it,  and  young  men  filled  with  the  same 
>pirit  bore  it  on,  growing  ever  brighter,  and  sending  its 
keen  flash  into  many  an  ol)scnre  corner,  burning  in  its  pure 
flame  many  an  outworn  syml)ol,  guiding  men  to  nobler 
thoughts  of  the  universe,  yet  teaching  them  humility,  as 
they  learned  to  recognize  that  they,  too,  spite  of  their  fan- 
cied superioritv,  were  but  a  part  of  the  great  harmonious 


The  "  Scratch  Club: 


69 


of  animals,  the 

tliL-y  jiondered 
colors  that  were 
the  nunuitains  ; 
.heir  fellow  men, 
and  sky  ;  bird, 
-'  Why  are  these 
inswer  ? ' 
lat  dwelt  in  the 
)atient.  To  him 
s.  Bnt  he  said  ; 
,v  the  secrets  of 

by  patient  toil, 
ver;  thus  aided, 

of  earth,  air,  or 
of  man  himself, 
he  mvste;-y  that 
i  Maker.'  With 
d  of  each  one  a 
lie  could  scarcely 

torch  is  called 
walk  l)y  its  liiiht 
herever  its  light 
ow  ever  brighter, 

If  false  to  your 
irkness  will  wrap 
ed,  and  must  for 
>e  men  went  forth 
lid  guided  by  the 
ars  they  watched, 
;ful  and  patient, 
and  even  put  to 
omid  worthy  suc- 
tlieir  hand  grew 
ed  with  the  same 
,  and  sending  its 
)urning  in  its  pure 
ig  men  to  nobler 
hem  humility,  as 
spite  of  their  fan- 
great  harmonious 


work  of  Him  who  works  through  the  ages.  Yet  science, 
like  art,  wrouglit  all  her  wonders  with  t'le  commonest 
materials.  As  one  picked  up  and  pondered  on  the  stones 
that  strewed  the  patli  of  the  mountain  torrent,  and,  fol- 
lowing up  the  torrent's  bed,  saw  the  grooved  lines  that 
marked  tie  l)are  .surface  of  the  rock,  where  some  mighty 
force  had  plouglicd  it  like  an  autumn  furrow,  a  sudden 
Hash  of  his  torch  sliowcd  him,  l)ack  through  dim  ages,  a 
sea  of  ice,  covering  mountain  and  valley,  and  moviiig 
ever,  in  slow,  resistless  majesty,  to  the  ocean.  One,  with 
a  piece  of  globular  glass,  flashed  his  torch  into  the  mar- 
vellous world  that  peoples  with  strange  life  every  drop  of 
water  or  grain  of  dust.  Another  .sent  the  flash  ol  his 
torch  through  the  universe,  and  revealed  to  wondering 
men  the  history  of  suns,  .stars,  and  worlds  from  that  time 
in  the  dim  eternity  of  the  past  when  suns  and  stars,  with 
their  obedient  worlds,  were  a  formless  chaos.  Others 
there  were  who  tamed  the  Titanic  son  of  fire  and  water, 
or  bridled  with  l)rass  and  iron  the  wild  lightning  All 
the.se  things,  and  countless  others,  were  done  by  submit- 
ting humbly  to  the  laws  of  nature  and  by  ft)llowing  loy- 
ally wherever  the  light  of  the  torch  showed  the  way. 
Thus  through  many  centuries  grew  the  arts  and  sciences, 
each  one  helping  and  heljjed  by  all  the  others.  Ihit  it 
came  to  pass  that  men  began  to  dispute  which  spirit  had 
bestowed  the  most  valuable  gifts,  and  the  rivalrv  grew  in 
bitterness,  although  there  was  perfect  amitv  between  the 
spirit  of  the  mountain  peak  and  the  .spirit  of  the  unlit 
cave,  both  of  whom  had  warned  men  that  patience  and 
humility  were  the  chief  requisites  in  all  who  would  serve 
them.  At  last  the  dissension  grew  so  bitter  that  the 
dwellers  on  the  plain  were  divided  into  hostile  camps, 
and,  growing  weary,  at  length,  of  cea.seless  wrangling] 
they  agreed  to  separate,  and  each  build  their  citv",  witli 
the  breadth  of  the  plain  between  them. 

"  Then  arose  a  fair  city,  fair  as  a  dream  of  Paradise,  the 
home  of  the  worshippers  of  Kallitekne,  adorned  with 
all  that  men  have  since  deemed  beautiful  in  architecture. 
.Streets  there  were,  gleaming  with  the  cold  chaste  perfec- 
tion that,  ages  after,  was  t(j  revive  in  Athens.  Wide 
avenues,    where  tall    spires    and    graceful    arches   shot 


1 1 


70 


The  ''Scratch  Clubr 


heavenward,  like  sprinsin-  flames      In  others    slender 
minarets  and  hell-like  domes  seemed  to  float  self-poised 
in    air,    rich    with   bewildering    lace   work   xyronght    in 
stone    the   far-ofl"  echo  of  the   fame  of  which   fired  the 
genius  of  the  builders  of  the   Alhanibra.     Streets   and 
buildings  were  peopled  with  statues  of  marble   bronze 
sil^T   a^Kl  gold,  that  made  visible  all  the  possibilities  of 
beauty  and  dignity  in  the  human  form,     hvery  wall  of 
temple  or  dwelling-house  glowed  with  pictured  dreams, 
that  strove  to  give  reality  to  the  vaguest,  deepes    aspira- 
tions of  the  soul  for  a  solution   of  the  mystery  of  hie. 
Maily  and  strange  were  the  instruments  ot  music  they 
contrived,    whose   wailing,    seductive    tones,    sunk    the 
hearers  in  exhausting  languor,  or  excited  fierce  einotions 
or  half-formed   purposes,   while  at  the  same  tune   they 
destroved  the  will  to  pursue  them.     So  comple  e  finally 
was   tiieir   subjection   to   art   that   religion,   w'lll,    moral 
sense-all  succumbed,  and  all  that  was  not  art  was  ba.se 
and  tearful  superstition,  fostered  and  intensified  liy  art. 
So  they  settled  themselves  in  the  belief  that  life  was  made 
for  art ;  that  l«iowledge  was  the  vain  pursuit  of  an  ever- 
fiying  shadow  ;   that  religioi/  was  passive  obedience  to 
fate      They  blindly  neglected  the  commonest  prudences 
for  the  preservation  of  healthy  life.     And  a  fierce  pesti- 
lence seized  them ;  weakened  by  efl-eminate  living  and  over- 
V  oSght  emotion,  they  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  destroyer, 
and  death-like  silence  fell  on  the  bright  ci  y  of  palaces. 
Grasses  grew  between  the  stones  of  the  marble  payements, 
a^d  slowly  but  surely  rent  them  to  fragments  ;  the  winds 
Sdged  seeds  in  the  crevices  of  temple  and  tower,  their 
tiny  roots,  swelled  by  summer  rams,  wedged  apart  the 
well-fitted  stones,  and  brought  pediment  and  architrave, 
lowering  spire  and  column  to  the  ground  in  hideous  con- 
fusion, which  (as  though  their  hurtful  superstitions  had 
taken   iving  form  and  were  loth  to  leave  such  congenial 
haunts)  became  a  home  for  hissing,  venomous  serpents. 
Sit  Ion-  before  this  final  consummation  blotted  out  their 
n^ne  and  citv,  the  spirit  Kallitekne  had  forsaken    hem, 
and  her  counterfeit,  called  Nomiko.  had  possessed  them, 
and  hastened  their  fall.  .  . 

^  The  followers  of  science  also  built  a  city.     The  situa- 
tion was  chosen  with  care  on  the  banks  of  a  deep  rapid 


The  "  Scratch  Club. 


71 


:)tliers.  slender 
oat  self-poised 
k  wrought  ill 
hicU  fired  the 
.  Streets  and 
narble,  bronze, 
possibilities  of 

Every  wall  of 
ctnred  dreams, 
deepest  aspira- 
nystery  of  life. 

of  music  they 
nes,    sunk    the 
fierce  emotions 
ame  time   they 
lomplete  finally 
Ml,  will,   moral 
ot  art  was  base 
eiisified  by  art, 
at  life  was  made 
suit  of  an  ever- 
ve  obedience  to 
oncst  prudences 
id  a  fierce  pesti- 
;  living  and  over- 
;o  the  destroyer, 

city  of  palaces, 
irble  pavements, 
lents  ;  the  winds 
and  tower,  their 
edtjed  apart  the 

aiid  architrave, 

in  hideous  con- 
uperstitions  had 
;  such  congenial 
lomous  serpents, 
blotted  out  their 
L  forsaken  them, 

possessed  them, 

city.     The  situa- 
;  of  a  deep  rapid 


river,  that  cour.sed,  with  many  wanderings,  over  the  plain 
on  its  way  to  the  .sea,  not  far  from  which  tlie  city  was 
situated.  Long  lines  of  wide  streets  ran  from  tlie  stone 
<|uays()n  the  river's  margin,  crossed  at  equal  distances 
l)y  others  as  wide,  all  paved  with  wear-defying  material 
and  swejit  free  even  from  dust  ;  no  horses  were  seen  on 
the  streets,  but  noi.seless  vehicles  glided  up  and  down 
filled  with  passengers  or,  on  the  streets  .set  apart  for  the 
l)urpose,  witii  loads  of  merchandise.  At  night,  sun-like 
globes,  on  lofty  towers,  made  the  .streets  bright  as  mid- 
day. Wide  parks  and  copious  fountains  of  clear  water 
were  lavished  everywhere.  In  one  quarter  were  the 
dwelling-hou.ses,  almost  destitute  of  ornament,  but  replete 
with  everything  that  can  minister  to  health  or  comfort. 
In  another  cjuarter,  towering  fiictories  rai.sed  their  blank 
walls  and  made  the  ground  tremble  with  the  roar  and 
rattle  of  machinery.  In  another  were  reared  vast  gloomy 
warehouses  in  wliich  were  stored  the  products  of  the 
world,  which  large,  swift  vessels  were  discharging,  day 
and  night,  on  the  quays.  In  another,  vast  laboratories 
were  built,  where  silent,  thoughtful  men  pored  day  after 
day  over  crucibles  and  retorts  and  batteries,  and  wrung 
from  reluctant  nature  the  secrets  of  her  alchemy.  Others, 
pondering  over  the  scanty  fragments  of  a  life  of  older 
times — gathered  from  river  )ed,  or  stone  quarry,  or  the 
deep,  dark  gallery  of  the  mine, — traced  with  almost  super- 
human skill,  the  cour.se  of  life  from  its  humble  beginnings. 
Others  with  keen  knife  and  still  keener  eyes,  traced  the 
path  and  noted  the  working  of  each  vein,  nerve,  and 
artery  in  the  human  frame,  and  grew  so  .skilled  that 
disea.se  was  almost  banislied  from  their  city.  For  years 
the  city  grew  in  prosperity,  health,  and  knowledge,  yet 
the  people  began  to  wear  a  strange  look  of  weariness,  as, 
though  the  increase  of  knowledge  had  increased  their 
sorrow.  It  seemed  as  if  their  capabilities  for  pleasure 
had  evaporated  under  the  ponderous  exhaust  glass  of 
science. 

"  Poetry,  painting,  and  mu.sic  were  almost  forgotten,  or 
were  looked  on  with  pitying  indifference  as  the  amuse- 
vnents  of  the  unilluminated.  y\ll  feltor  affected  indiffer- 
ence to  art  and  practiced  indifference  to  artists,  looking 
on  them  from  the  lofty  towers  of  science,  much  as  a  man 


;a 


The  "  Siratch  Club." 


t 


looks  on  a  rnther  superior  typo  of  vSiiiii;mor  otlier  inferior 
animal.  Tlic  artists,  one  by  one,  kit  them  and  took  np 
their  abode  in  the  rival  -  Hy,  and  tlie  people  linaiiy  U^x\ioi 
Heauty  and  bt  i  ."'ed  <  /■  in  'tility,  a  ('ivoree  whiili  evr 
ha,-.  ai>.'.  e  er  n^' ;  '•t?'  ■,.  ..',,-l  itn.  f  on  its  j.erpetrat  ts. 

"Au  evil  spi,;:  a!-'.  -Mlied  Hypothesia,  took  jiosses- 
sionoftheni  md  ,v,i <]>><!  heir  understandings,  till  they 
vaiidv  thought  th,-  lavn.  •;  "illowed  to  its  inmost  recess 
the  hiding  of  the  miad,  l;.  had  surprised  the  secret 
of  its  origin  and  working  ;  or.  having  traced  by  dim, 
inicertain  signs  the  path  of  the  Creator  through  the  ages, 
they  had  solved  the  m>  stery  of  the  generation  of  all 
things  ;  or,  .seeing  that  the  ever-changing  comt)ination  of 
changeless  atoms  was  the  law  of  the  material  world,  they 
said  :  '  Life  and  death  are  but  names  for  chemical  afiuiities 
and  reindsions,  even  what  Ignorance  calls  niind  or  soul 
is  nought  but  the  manifestation  of  a  complex  chenueal 
union  of  these  indestructible  eternal  atoms.'  vSo  they 
looked  on  leligiou  as  the  dream  of  untaught  savages  ; 
art  as  the  amusement  of  children  :  emotion  as  weakness, 
and  .summed  up  the  laliorious  result  of  exiieriment  and 
.speculation  in  the  saying  :  'Life  is  not  worth  living.  It 
is  too  short  to  realize  all  the  possibilities  of  attainment, 
and  death  stops  its  advance  for  ever.'  vSo  they  grew  ever 
more  hopeless  and  railed  at  life  as  a  cheat  that  lured  them 
with  a  delusive  show  of  potencies,  soon  to  be  quenched 
in  endless  night. 

"  At  this  time  took  place  one  of  those  mighty  migra- 
tions that  rolled  their  successive  waves  over  the  f:>ce  of 
the  world.  A  strong  race  of  nomads  pushetl  westward, 
seeking  new  homes  and  fresh  pastures  for  their  flocks. 
Then  they  were  ignorant,  and  superstitious,  and  often 
cruel,  but' believing  in  good  and  evil,  and  therefore  cajia- 
ble  of  attaining  all  things.  With  childlike  wonder  they 
saw  the  great  citv,  and  heard  the  roar  of  its  thousand 
factories,  and  .saw' the  swift  msjtion  of  mighty  engines  or 
the  moonlike  radiance  of  its  lofty  light-towers.  Then  the 
child's  spirit  of  destruction  .seized  them,  aided  by  super- 
stitious fears  of  the  wonders  they  saw.  The  people  of 
the  city,  well-supplied  with  death-dealing  appliances, 
easily  drove  them  from  the  city  and  held  them  at  bay. 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


73 


otlier  inferior 
I  and  took  n]) 
•  finally  forj^ol 
rco  wliiih  cviT 
.■trat  .rs. 
,  took  jiosscs- 
ini;s,  till  they 

inmost  recess 
ifd  the  secret 
■aceil  1)y  dim, 
jni;li  the  ages, 
eralion  of  all 
omhination  of 
al  worlil,  they 
mical  afiuiities 

mind  or  sonl 
plex  chemical 
ns.'  So  they 
ni^ht  savages  ; 
1  as  weakness, 
xiieriment  and 
irth  living.  It 
of  attainment, 
Lhey  j^rew  ever 
hat  hired  them 
)  be  qnenched 

mii:;hty  migra- 
er  the  face  of 
lietl  westward, 
)r  their  flocks, 
ons,  and  often 
therefore  ca]xv- 
:e  wonder  they 
if  its  thonsand 
:lity  engines  or 
ers.  Then  the 
tided  by  snper- 
The  people  of 
ng  appliances, 
I  them  at  bay. 


lUil   the   ■    unties.'    hosts  camped   alxmt   Mk   walls  and 
waited  '    ail  starvation  came  to  helj)   them   against  the 
doi.iiie.l  citv.     The  belief  Mia*     life  was  not  worth  living' 
also  helped  them  ..till  more  fatally,  for  strong  men,  grow- 
ing hopeless,  forgot  all  ties  of  duty  or  kindred,  of  defence- 
less  women    and   children,   and   destroyed   with    violent 
hands  the  life  they  thought  so  worthless,  until  none  were 
left  to  defend  the  walls  ;  then,  with  shouts  of  triumph, 
the  savage  Hordes  dashed  through  the  streets,  maddeneti 
with  long  waling,  killing  indi.scriminat'jly  old  and  young, 
women  and  children,  and,  with  ponderous  chibs  and  huge 
.stones,   they  broke  the  costly  works  of  the  skilful  engi- 
neers ;  others,  torch  in  hand,  fired  the  tall   factories  and 
warehouses,  and  many  fell  victims  to  their  own  destruc- 
tiveness,  ;is  thundering  e.Kplosions  brought  the  lofty  walls 
crashing  to  the  ground.     vSo  complete  was  the  desolation 
that  a  smouldering  heap  of  ashes  and  smoke-blackened 
stones,  'diarred  beams  and  strangely-twisted  bars  of  iron 
alone  remained  to  mark  the  site  of  the  prosperous  city. 
Slowly,  as  the  years  went  by,  the  winds  .scattered  the  soil 
of  the  plain  over  the  ruins,  the  wild  vine  and  bramble 
covered  with  briglit  verdure  the  unsightly  stones  ;  then 
.seedling  trees  took  root  and  grew  vigorously,  adding  by 
the  yearly  fall  of  their  leaves  to  the  covering  of  the  city's 
grave,  till  the  very  desert  wanderers,  who  still  had  a  dim 
tradition  of  the  home  of  wonders  their  remote  forefathers 
destroyed,  pitched  their  tents  ar.d  built  their  watchfires 
on  its  site,  nor  dreamed  that  the  forest  that  .'sheltered  them 
from  sun  and  wind  had  its  roots  deep  down  in  the  decay- 
ing remains  of  the  fabled  city." 

Parks.  Well,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  long-winded 
storv  ? 

Da/ton.  It's  visi1)le  enough.  Kven  you  might  have 
swallowed  it,  for  you  have  been  asleep  with  your  mouth 
open  the  l-.st  half  hour. 

Dr.  C.oodman.  Very  good,   Plazel.     You  have  carried 

,out  your  plan  and  indicated  your  moral  very  well.     If  I 

may  venture  a  critici.sm,   I  think  your  use  of  adjective. 

and  epithets  is  a  little  too  redundant.    The  iiouri  and  the 


k*.  .<;<'. 'a 


74 


The  "  Scnitcli  Club" 


I 


vt.rh_tlii;  lliiiij^'  and  the  action  performed— are  '.vhal  \(\\^ 
vigor  to  writing.  Adjectives  soon  grow  tiresome  unless 
sparingly  used. 

Crabbc.  They  are  like  needless  tnodnlations  in  music, 
which  always  betray  i)aucity  of  invention.  A  ^,ymphony 
of  Mozart  or  Beethoven  won't  have  a  fourth  part  of  the 
modulating  a  nocturne  of  Chopin  has. 

Parks.  There  you  go!    Mozart,  Beethoven— Beethoven, 
Mozart !     Von  think  mu^ic  began  and  ended  with  them. 
Dr.  Coodman.  Can't  you  suspend  the  everlasting  mu- 
sical wrangle   for  once,  if  only  out  of  regard  for  Hazel? 
Have  you  nothing  to  say  about  his  allegory  ? 

Crabbc.  I  am  very  uuich  pleased  with  it.  I  begin  to 
have  hopes  of  all  of  you.  I  have  developed  a  poetic  vein 
in  Dalton  ;  an  allegoric  vein  in  you.  It  only  remains  to 
make  something  of  Parks  ;  he  has  not  shown  any  marked 
intellectual  tendency  yet ;  but  it  will  come  ;  it  will  come. 
Parks.  It  may  come  when  you  don't  expect  it  and  in  a 
way  that  will  hardly  j.lea.se  you. 

Crabbc.  I  wager  he  is,  l)y  slow.  dilTicult  increments, 
producing  some  withering  satire  on  us.  Isn't  it  so. 
Parks? 

Parks.  Wait,  and  see. 
Crabbc.  We  wait  and  trend)le. 

/;;-.  Coodman.  You  all  seem  determined  to  talk  of  any- 
thing Imt  Ila/.el's  paper.  Como,  Hazel  ;  let  us  go  to- 
gether.    I   would  like   to   .say  something  more  to  you 

about  it. 

Crabbc.  That's  right.  We  will  talk  fast  enough  about 
it  when  you  are  gone.  Hazel.     We  are  afraid  of  making 

vou  vain. 

Dr.  Goodman.  That  is  administering  the  pill  first— the 
sugar-coating  afterwards  ;  Crabbe's  favorite  practice. 

Hazel.  Good  night,  and  don't  spare  me  1  My  evil  star 
is  in  the  sign  Caucer. 


—are  whal  i;,'\\c 
Lirc'some  unless 

tioiis  in  music, 

A  symphony 

irth  i)art  of  tV.c 

en — Beethoven, 
Lied  wilh  Iheni. 
everlasting  mu- 
j;ar(l  for  Hazel  ? 
ry? 

it.  I  begin  to 
lecl  a  poetic  vein 
only  remains  to 
jwn  any  marked 
le  ;  it  will  come. 
qicct  it  and  in  a 

cult  increments, 
,s.      Isn't   it   so, 


;d  to  talk  of  any- 
1  ;  let  us  go  to- 
ng  more  to  you 

ist  enough  ahoiit 
ifraid  of  making 

;he  pill  first— the 

irite  practice. 

ic  1     My  evil  star 


ELKVKNTH  EVENING. 
O/ycnr,  .-hfini^^  and  Music. 

CWV,  talk  was  started  this  evening  l)y  i'arks  launching 
out  in  rapturous  panegyric  on  a  late  performance  hy 
an  Italian  opera  troupe.  His  enthusiasm  roused  the  bile 
of  Crahlie  and  Dalton,  making  tliem,  of  course,  more  and 
more  depreciative  as  his  enthusiusm  rose. 

Parks.  In  spite  of  all  your  sneers  at  sensuous  music,  I 
still  say  and  think  that  music  has  reached  its  highest, 
most  jierfect  expression  in  o])era,  particidarly  Italian 
ol>era  ;  tlie  best  proof  of  which  is  the  universality  of  its 
appreciation.  No  doubt  the  public  s  easily  misled,  but, 
in  the  long  run,  their  judgment  is  pretty  sure  to  be 
right. 

Dalton.  Yes  ;  i)retty  sure  to  be  right  as  to  what  they 
like.  But  that  is  no  proof  that  the>'  ought  to  like  it ;  or, 
rather,  I  sliouUl  say,  no  proof  that  opera  is  what  you 
claim  for  it. 

Crabbc.  I  have  no  hesitation  in  .saying  that  it  is,  with 
nine  out  often  liearers,  the  singing,  the  plot,  the  .scenery, 
the  acting— an\  thing  but  the  music— that  they  rave 
about.  They  say,  "Wasn't  Squallini  wonderful  in  the 
.shadow  song?  Such  execution!  such  acting!"  Or, 
"Didn't  Howletti  make  an  astoni.shing  effect  with  his 
high  C?"  Or,  "Marvellous  bass  that  Growlou.ski  1 
Went  four  octaves  below  the  bass  clef!"  You  never 
hear  a  word  about  t'.ie  »iusu\  unless  it  be  from  some  rash 
musician  whose  temerity  leads  him  to  say  that  he  doesu't 

(  75) 


76 


Tlu-  "  ScraUli  Club." 


think  Poiiizitti  or  Rclliiii  ns  k'><»1  ^'^  M'l/art  or  Gluck, 
wlicu  he  is  (IcscrvcMlly  smil)h«.'il  Iiy  luiiiK  tohl,  "Oh,  you 
musicians  pretend  to  iikc  nothing  but '  scicntifu' '  music." 
Paiks.  Well,  music  is  meant  to  he  heautif.il,  isn't  it? 
And  what  is  more  Ijeaiitilul  than  a  melody  of  Bellini? 

Palton.  Hellini  was  a  genius.  His  melodies  arc  heau- 
titnl  ;  but  can't  you  conceive  the  possibility  of  a  much 
higher  degree  of  beauty,  that  reveals  itself  only  to  a  cho- 
sen few?  Now  there  is  a  beauty  in  a  (piartette  or  sonata 
of  Mozart  or  Ikethoven,  or  a  fugue  of  Bach,  that  to  those 
that  can  see  it  makes  all  opera  seem  tawdry. 

Crabbc.  Right,  Dalton!  Cotton-velvet  an<l  spangles, 
stage  tricks  and  scene  painting,  degrade  nuisic.  I  won- 
der if  there  are  many  operas  that  would  bear  being  sung 
like  oratorios.  This  would  be  a  splendiil  test  of  their 
musical  (piality.  Fancy  "Lucia"  or  "Lucre/ia"  sung 
by  the  Boston  "  Handel  and  Haydn."  I  km)W  very  few 
operas  that  could  staiul  it,  say  like  "  iMdelio,"  or  "  Don 
Giovanni,"  or  "  Acis  and  Galatea." 

Parks.  But  that  is  not  fair.  The  opera  is  made  to  be 
sung  with  certain  surroundings,  dre.ss,  scenery,  and  ac- 
tion. It  is  nnjust  to  sejiarate  it  from  these  and  then  con- 
demn it  because  it  is  not  oratorio. 

Dallou.  Don't  you  see?  You  give  the  ([uestion  away 
when  you  say  it  lunh  these  accessories  to  make  it  effect- 
tive—lhat  the  music  alone  is  not  enough.  Now  the 
operas  that  Crabbe  mentioned  have  been  sang  like  can- 
tatas, and  have  not  lost  their  effect  by  the  loss  of  the 
accessories. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Judging  from  your  remarks,  I  should 
gather  that  you  l)oth  think  oratorio  or  cantata  is  superior 
to  opera.  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  for,  although  my  profes- 
sion has  debarred  wvi  from  much  familiarity  with  the 
opera,  it  has  always  seemed  to  me  an  amusement  befitting 


r 


;arl  or  Gluck, 
)Ul,  "Oh,  you 
itifu' '  music." 
lil'.il,  isn't  it? 
of  Bellini? 
lies  arc  hcau- 
ity  of  11  uuu'li 
onlv  to  a  clio- 
Ic'ttu  or  sonata 
I,  that  to  those 

and  spangles, 
nusic.  I  won- 
ar  hcin;j;  snn>; 
il  tfst  of  their 
ucrc'/.ia"  snnj; 
know  very  few 
ilio,"  or  "  Don 

is  maile  to  be 
eiiery,  and  ac- 
:•  and  then  con- 

([uestion  away 
make  it  effect - 
li^h.  Now  the 
sung  like  can- 
the  loss  of  the 

larks,  I  shovtld 
iitata  is  superior 
in.ii;h  my  profes- 
iarity  with  the 
bemeut  befitting 


//l<'  "  ScnifJi  ( •/„/,' 


;; 


9:?:f:;r:-::-;:;:;;;;-:-::;:,--"'; 
:  n';!r,:r:rT.::":,:-:,r- -- 

nil  Lomuls;  when  people  r,,ht  duels,  o.„un,l  Mu.nl  •     « 
suicide,    or   treason     m-    ir  ■  '"unkr,  oi 

-U«  or  duos,  even  after  they  arc  dead  ..rneariv  so' 

thile  with  lii"  Tr:  '""''"''  """"''^  ^^'^•'^^^'^"  «-npa- 
thi/^  u,th    he  po..tK-al  aspect  of  these  things.  '      ' 

/.//...  My  poeticalnature  revolts  against  the  contact 
ot  these  hase,  unpoetic  things. 

/'"/;/•..    IJut  art  ennohles  whatever  it  touches. 

/WA-..  In  thee  cases  the  art  does  not  touch  then,  at 
•".     It   .s   forced   nuoan   u.u.atural   union   with    then 

nals  or  basest  passions  to  teach  the  brightest    purest  le< 
sons      Hut   this   is   not   the   mission   ,^  „„  '  ^  "^^^ 

nonngtodowithconcretepassionoraeti:.,;,J\    i*^ 

uie'm;:;::^" 

the  nu^oiigruousness  is  not  so  apparent  in  a  regi,  n  wee 
everything  IS  supernatural.  ^K>"n  wiierc 

Mo„.   J  have  always  thought  this  the  best  argument 
Wv  agam.  „,a^„,  ,.,,,„  , 

ab    ml  ,h   ,       '•'•'"■^'''^'^■'.'^  to  .sayin,   that  the  thing  is  ,so 

h^dof  '""'"*"'  '"'''"''  yourself  translatec'to  the 

and  of     Jenesai.spasou  •'  to  keep  it  from  doing  violence 

to  your  understanding.  '»*,  Moieiice 


78 


The  "  Scratch  C/iib." 


Parks.  I  believe  you  two  would  have  allthe  v.orld  gu  c 
up  goiug  to  Lhe  opera.     I  dou'  t  think  you  11  succeecl. 
Dalton.  We  don't  wish  to  do  anything  of  the  kind 
Crabbe.    Not  a  bit.     AH  thi.s   wisdom    is   poured   out 
simply  for  the  enlightenment  of  yourself.     ^-^  m>-  part^ 
I  gfve  up.  long  ago,  thinking  or  carnig  anyth  ng  a  out 
public  taste      I  always  look  askance  on  those      aiti.ts 
;;t  ta\l   of  elevating   the  public    taste.      U    generally 
means  putting  a  few  dollars  in  the  virtuoso  s  pocket.  _ 
amciuiJe  hapity  if  the  public  taste  prefers  opera  to  oratono 
or  opera  boufTe  to  grand  opera,  or  negro  ^}-^ ^^^ 
of  them,  l)Ut  I  don't  bke  to  hear  a  musician  talk  heres> 
without  trying  to  open  his  eyes. 

Parks    Very  kind  of  vou.     I  am  satisfied  so  long  as  the 
,„ajority  of  the  music-loving  are  with  me  hi  my  heresy  _ 
Crabbe.   -Ephraim    is  wedded  to  his   idols;    let   him 

alone." 

Dr   Goodman.  Having  disposed  of  Parks,  tell  me,  some 

of  you.  why  vou  think  oratorio  so  much  better  than  opera 
I  eonfess  mv'  preference  is  chiefly  founded  on  the  fact  that 
the  oratorio  is  drawn  from  the  sacred  story,  and  that  the 
opera  deals  so  largely  with  such  immoral  stor.e.s-stones 
that  decent  people  would  not  read,  yet  strangely  enough, 
will  listen  to  and  applaud  when  set  to  music. 

Dalto,  Mv  admiration  of  oratorio  is  founded  on  the 
])elief  that  it'is  a  higher  form  of  composition,  it  admit,s  ot 
„.ore  elaborate  musical  treatment,  being  unhampered  by 
the  necessities  of  action. 

Crabbe  Over  and  above  these  reasons,  I  admire  it  be- 
cause it  does  not  give  the  same  opportunity  to  the  vanity 
of  the  singers.  They  play  all  sorts  of  pranks  with  opera 
airs,  but  the  most  conceited  hardly  dare  to  take  liberties 
with  the  music  of  Han.lel  and  Mendelssohn.  By  the 
way,  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  good  solo  singers  for  ora- 


The  "  Scratch  Ciub." 


79 


all  the  V,  orld  give 
on' 11  succeed, 
g  of  the  kind, 
in   is   poured   out 
:lf.     For  my  part, 
ig  anything  about 
\  those  ' '  artists 
itc.      It   generally 
tuoso's  pocket.      I 
s  opera  to  oratorio, 
o  minstrelsy  to  all 
Lisiciau  talk  heresy 

sfied  so  long  as  the 
ine  in  my  heresy, 
lis   idols ;    let   him 

'arks,  tell  me,  some 
li  better  than  opera, 
ded  on  the  fact  that 

story,  and  that  the 
oral  stories— stories 
t  strangely  enough, 

music. 

)  is  founded  on  the 
osition,  it  admits  of 
iug  unhampered  by 

3ns,  I  admire  it  be- 
tunity  to  the  vanity 
f  pranks  with  opera 
are  to  take  liljerties 
mdelssohn.  By  the 
solo  singers  for  ora- 


torio. Opera  singers  and  son;--  singers  won't  do  at  all  ; 
the)-  are  like  fish  out  of  water  ;  they  gasj)  and  struggle  to 
make  "  effects,"  and  succeed  only  in  convincing  the 
judicious  of  their  incapability.  I  could  mention  several 
that  are  well  known  in  America.  I  could  also  mention 
several  that  will  compare  with  any  oratorio  singers  in  the 
world. 

Dallon.  I  will  mention  one — who,  alas,  is  no  more — 
that,  to  my  thinking,  surpassed  all  the  oratorio  singers 
we  ever  had— that  was  Parepa.  The  perfect  vocalization, 
the  strict  adherence  to  the  text,  the  freedom  from  com- 
mon])lace  attempts  at  "effects"  by  ritardandos  or  accel- 
erandos  not  indicated  in  the  score,  the  utter  absence  of 
self-display — these  made  up  such  an  oratorio  singer  as 
will  not  soon  again  be  heard. 

CralhH'.  I  always  tliought  it  a  pitj-  she  went  on  the 
.stage.     It  was  misdirected  ambition. 

Dr.  Coodman.  I  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  hearing 
her  in  concert  or  oratorio,  and  always  with  increasing 
pleasure. 

Crabbc.  Our  di.scussion  seems  to  have  turned  into  a 
threnody  on  Parepa.  I  don't  like  these  mortuary  exer- 
citations,  .so  I'm  off. 

Parks.  It  makes  him  think  of  the  very  different  way 
people  will  "threnody  "  him  some  day. 


€** 


TWELFTH  EVENING. 
Hcrr  Schuabcl  Enlivens  the  Prorredings. 

CHR  conversation  was  very  much  enlivened  this  eve- 
ning by  the  i^resence  of  Herr  Sciniabel.  The  Herr 
is  a  type  of  a  very  lumerous  class  of  German  musicians 
in  America,  who,  presuming  on  the  fact  that  Germany 
has  produced  the  greatest  nuisicians,  despise  the  musi- 
cians of  all  other  countries  and  think  themselves  the 
worthy  successors  of  these  great  men,  or  even  their  supe- 
riors—or,  at  least,  their  only  authorized  interprei-rs,  with 
about  as  much  rcyison  as  the  l^nglish  playwrights  of  the 
present  day  would  have  to  look  with  contempt  on  the 
dramatists  of  other  nations  because  themselves  were  the 
countrymen  of  vShakespeare.  These  nuisicians,  though 
often  executants  of  no  mean  aliility,  are  composers  of  no 
ability  whatever;  yet  they  gain  great  reputation  for 
knowledge,  among  the  ignorant,  by  the  easy  process  of 
condenuiing  the  productions  of  all  composers  who  are  so 
unfortunate  as  to  have  been  born  outside  of  the  Father- 
land. The  club  enjoyed  the  Herr's  ' '  bouncing  ' '  hugely, 
and  "  drew  him  out "  without  mercy. 

Dal/on.  Yes;   what  you  say  of  German   musicians  is 
true.     But  can  you  tell  me  why  it  is  so,  Herr  Schnabel  ? 

Schuabcl.  Ja  ;"  it  is  only  with  the  Germaii  mind  that  is 
found  the  mix  of  intellect  and  feeling  to  make  the  great 
musician.  No  other  people  look  so  close  in  the  nature  or 
dive  so  deep  in  the  profound  of  the  human  soul.  Music 
■s  the  outcome,  the  flower,  of  German  philosophy.  I 
(80) 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


81 


redings. 

med  this  eve- 
;1.     The  Herr 
lan  nuisicians 
hat  Germany 
)ise  the  nmsi- 
lieiiiselves  the 
'en  their  supe- 
irpret^rs,  witli 
.vrights  of  the 
iteinpt  on  the 
elves  were  the 
;cians,   though 
mposers  of  no 
reputation    for 
isy  process  of 
_'rs  who  are  so 
of  the  Father- 
ring"  hugely, 

1  musicians  is 
err  Schnabel  ? 
[1  mind  that  is 
make  the  great 
n  the  nature  or 
1  soul.  Music 
philosophy.     I 


know— I  have  study  all  the  s>steins— as  I  have  mastered 
the  innermost  motives  that  the  all-human,  experience- 
infolding  soul  of  tlie  great  composer  has  known. 

Crahbc.  Why  do  you  not  give  to  the  waiting  world  some 
of  your  own  profound  conceptions  ?  Whv  has  the  genius 
of  Germany  lain  fallow  since  Beethoven  passed  away? 

Schuabcl.  It  lies  not  fallow.  We  have  taken  up  the 
work  where  the  hand  of  Beethoven  could  no  lotigcr  hold 
It.  We  have  compose  sinfonie— I  have  compose  sinfonie. 
But  the  genius  has  always  tlie  enemies. 

Crabhr  Why,  is  not  Germany  ever  ready  to  recognize 
new  de;-elopments  of  the  national  genius  ?  Or,  have  you 
exiled  yourself  for  the  purpose  of  instructing  us? 

Schnabel.  I  come  in  America  an  art  mis'^ionary,  but 
they  know  it  not.  The  American  mind  is  too  gross  to 
enter  the  temple  of  art.  Who  think  themselves  musical 
will  listen  to  Mozart,  or  Beethoven,  or  Mendelssohn,  or 
Schumann,  but  they  will  not  to  kiiow  what  has  been  since 
in  music. 

Da/ton.  No  doubt  we  have  much  to  learn.  When  are 
we  to  have  the  privilege  of  hearing  your  compositions  ? 

Schnabel.  Bah!  I  have  spid  you  Americans  are '100 
gross.  I  was  most  esteemed  in  Germany.  They  would 
not  that  I  sliould  leave  them  ;  but  I  am  here. 

Crabbe.  It  is  strange  that  I  never  heard  of  you  in  Ger- 
many. I  spent  a  number  of  years  in  Leipzig,  where  I 
heard  all  the  Gewandhaus  concerts.  I  often  saw  new 
names  on  the  programmes  but  never  remember  seeing 
yours. 

Schnabel   (eon piria).    I  have  scorn  the  Gewandhaus. 

Whe:i  I  come  in   Leipzig  with  my  compositions  I  find 

nothing  but  enemies.     They  plot  against  me,  that  I  will 

'not  be  heard  :  they  turn  pale  at  the  face  when  they  look 

over  my  sinfonie,  and   make  excuses  with  sick  smiles, 


$2 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


%"•■ 


and  hurry  a\va\-.  Enraged,  I  shake  my  foot  of  their  dust, 
and  say— I  will  go  to  America.  America  shall  soon  be  the 
leader  in  music.  But,  they  love  my  music  not  at  all.  It  is 
nothing  that  I  have  enter  in  the  temple  and  know  the 
secrets  of  art,  while  all  othe"s  stand  on  the  threshold.  The 
world  is  not  ready— I  must  die  for  a  hundred  years— then 
they  will  knowSchnabel  and  worship  his  memory.  [Here 
the  Herr  bolted  a  huge  draught  of  beer  and  bolted  out, 
taking  inadvertently  a  handful  of  cigars  with  him.] 

Dr.  Goodman.  Well,  1  hope  that  is  not  a  specimen  of 
German  musicians.  A  mixture  of  art  slang,  sham 
philosophy,  and  self-conceit. 

Crabhe.  Heaven  forbid  !  whatever  musical  culture  we 
may  possess  in  America,  we  owe  to  German  nuisicians 
chiefly,  not  men  of  this  stamp,  but  artists  whose  rever- 
ence for  the  mighty  men  their  country  has  produced,  has 
made  them  modest  al^out  their  own  merits. 

Parks.  But  they  are  always  ready  to  crow  al)out  their 
great  musicians,  even  the  liest  of  them. 

Dallon.  Who  can  blame  them  ?    They  have  reason. 
Crabbe.  The  osly  fault  is  that  they  should  think  or  say 
that  because  the  grea'test  nuisicians  were  Germans,  there- 
fore all  German  musicians  are  great,  or  if  not  great,  at 
least  better  than  all  other  musicians. 

Dalton.  It  is  a  curious  subject  for  speculation— win- 
painting  toirched  its  highest  point  in  Italy,  literature  in 
England  and  nuisic  in  Germany.  I.,  it  owing  to  mental 
constitution  or  "  environment,  '  cr  climate,  or  what  is  it  ^ 
Dr  Goodman.  With  regard  to  English  literature,  I 
think  the  causes  of  its  pre-eminence  are  easily  found. 
The  chief  cause  is  the  possession  for  so  much  longer  a 
time  than  other  peoples  of  freedom  of  speech.  The 
Anglo  Saxon  has  always  had  a  habit  of  boldly  sayuig 
his  say,  whether  in  religion  or  politics.  This  has 
nourished  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry  and  the  habit  of  keen 


of  their  dust, 
all  soon  be  the 
ot  at  all.  It  is 
nd  know  the 
reshold.  The 
d  years — then 
emory.  [Here 
nd  bulled  out, 
nth  him.] 
a  specimen  of 
slang,    sham 

:al  culture  we 

nan  musicians 

;  whose  rever- 

pruduced,  has 

nv  al)ont  their 

ive  reason. 
Id  think  or  say 
ermans,  thcre- 
f  not  great,  at 

iculation — why 
y,  literature  in 
A'ing  to  mental 
,  or  what  is  it  ? 
li  literature,  I 
;  easily  found, 
much  longer  a 
speech.  The 
boldly  saying 
OS.  This  has 
e  habit  of  keen 


riic  "  Scratch  Club! 


«3 


observation.  With  regard  to  Italian  painting,  i)erhaps 
it  is  because  painting  became  to  them  the  higliest  ex- 
pression of  the  peculiar  religious  feeling  of  their  time, 
as  church  architecture  was  of  an  earlier  time.  Music 
would  seem  to  me  to  be  the  natural  expression  of  a  dreamy, 
introspective,  subjective  people  ;  a  people  who  strive  to 
analyze  the  vaguest,  most  fleeting  impulses,  who  can 
spend  whole  lives  in  Nepheloccocugia,  as  the  Germans 
do,  in  spite  of  their,  at  the  same  time,  intensely  ])raccical 
nature.  But  there  may  be,  likely  are,  other  reasons  too 
occult  to  trace. 

Crahbe.  If  you  are  right.  Doctor,  I  fear  there  is  little 
hope  for  the  product-  jii  of  a  great  school  of  American 
painters  or  musicians.  And  I  don't  know  l)Ut  that  it  is 
ratlier  a  hopeful  indication  of  our  mental  health,  par. 
ticularly  as  we  already  hold  our  own  with  the  rest  of  the 
world  in  literature. 

Pr  (nwihiiaii.  I  have  no  doubt  that  a  liigh  degree  of 
artistic  culture,  in  any  art  but  iMire  wholesome  literature, 
is  not  an  indication  of  a  }iealthfn'  mental  develojiment. 

DaUo)i.  I  wonder  you  are  not  afraid  to  say  so,  in  these 
days  of  "culture,  "  high  art,"  and' "  aestheticism." 

Dr.  (nyodnmii.  Oh,  these  things  ai\' only  the  whims  of  an 
lu)ur,  very  few  people  and  these  ncl  of  much  weight  or 
influence  are  in  earnest  a])Out  them 

Crabbc.  Hazel  has  been  dumb  ail  Ihe  evening.  I  suji- 
pose  he  is  thinking  how  applical)le  his  allegory  is  to  what 
we  are  discu.ssing. 

Hazel.  I  have  l)een  lost  in  wonder  all  the  evening  at 
the  boundless  assurance  of  Herr  Schnabel,  it  has  deprived 
me  of  the  power  of  tliinking.  Then  whatever  j'^«  may 
think,  I  think  I  have  said  my  say  on  the  subject  of  art 
,  and  culture  in  my  allegory,  which  you  .seem  disposed  to 
laugh  at. 

Crabbc.  Oh,  the  tenderness  of  these  incubators  of  one 


1 


84 


7'/te  "  Stratr/i  Clubr 


cgR  to  their  feathcrless  progeny  !  Truly  I  tliiiik  your 
allegory  was  no  laughing  matter,  indeed  we  all  agreed  that 
it  was  not,  that  night,  after  you  left. 

Dr.  Goodman.  Can't  you  let  Hazel's  allegory  alone? 
Hazel,  he  spoke  in  warm  terms  of  it  to  me. 

Crabbc.  I  .saw  that  Hazel  was  depres.sed,  and  hit  on 
that  as  the  best  way  to  restore  his  vigorous  mind  to  its 
wonted  activity.     My  design  was  therapeutic. 

Dr.  Croodma)!.  Well,  from  >-ou,  that  is  a  handsome 
apology  for  a  misdoing.  Hazel,  Kt  us  say  good  night 
while  he  is  in  such  an  unusually  gracious  mood. 


THIRTEENTH  EVENING. 

Discussion  on  Musical  Memory^    Dr.    Goodmim 
Tells  a  Story — Crabbc  Tells  Another. 


i: 


CHERE  was  very  little  playing  this  evening.  Dalton 
was  suffering  from  rheumatism  in  his  wrist  and  had 
to  give  up.  They  talked  of  various  'matters,  musical  and 
otherwise,  and  drifted  at  last  into  anecdotes  of  musicians, 
and  stories  connected  with  music  :  several  were  told,  l)Ut 
the  writer  only  kept  notes  of  two.  Dr.  Goodman's  story 
was  suggested  by  a  discussion  on  musical  memory.  Dalton 
maintained  that  musical  memory  was  a  certain  indication 
of  musical  ability,  or  at  least  always  accompanied  it  ; 
Parks,  that  musical  ability  was  independent  of  memory, 
because  many  fine  players  could  not  play  unless  the  music 


I  tliiiik  your 

II  agreed  that 

cgory  alone? 

,  and  hit  on 
s  mind  to  its 
c. 

a  handsome 
,'  good  night 
jod. 


Goodman 
oilier. 

ing.  Dalton 
vrist  and  had 
musical  and 
)f  musicians, 
i'ere  lt)ld,  but 
d  man's  story 
nory.  Dalton 
in  indication 
mipanied  it  ; 
:  of  memor}', 
2SS  the  music 


Tkc  "  Scratch  Clubr 


85 


was  before  them  ;    Crabl,e  lamented  that  there  was  but 
the   one    word,   -musician,"    to   designate   all,  from    the 
comjx.ser  to  tlie  hand-organ  grinder,  and  insisted  that  it 
was  as  absurd  to  crdl  a  mere  plajer,  no  matter  how  good 
a  nuis.c.an,  as  it  wouhl  be  to  call  an  actor  a  dramatist   or 
an  elocutionist,  a  poet.       All  but  Parks  were  agreed  as  to 
the  presence  of  musical  memory  being  a  sure  indication  of 
musical  abdity,  and  many  well-known  anecdotes  of  great 
uu.sicans   were  cited  in    proof  of  it.     So   Parks   finallv 
gave  in,  Crabbe  saying  to  iiim  tliat  he  must  certainly  be 
a  genius,  ],ecause  he  had  heanlhim  wliistle  or  hum  every 
operatic  air  from  Rossini  to  \'erdi.      Parks  was  about  to 
reply  when  the  Doctor  cut  in,  saying  that  if  they  wished 
to  hear  his  story  they  liad  better  stop  their  discussion. 
On  this    hey  settled  themselyes  to  listen,  and  the  Doctor 
told  the  following  story  : 

"In  the  neighborhood  of  a  small   town  called  Wain 
ford,  in  Deyonshire,  liyed  a  wealtl.v  ^amtleSan    nul  his 
wife,  named  Leighton.     The>-  had  Tiacf  th  i     hil     en  •  t 
the  course  o    their  life,  two  of  whom  died,  and  'The 
with  one  httle  girl    who  was,  r.l  the  time  my  story  1  1,," 
?dnlt^T  years  old-a  bright,  affectionate  little  creature 
clohzed  by  her  parents.     Wa  idering  through  the  c  un' 
try  side  was  an  old  vagabond,  a  welcome  guesi  11  the 
kitchens  of  the  small   farmers  and  the  tap-rooms  of    le 

^r^^\  ^T^v'^  "'' ""  precarious  liyeliUood  by  play  it 
on  a  bat  ered  fiddle  some  dozen  old  airs.  The  course  of 
his  wanderings  often  brought  him  to  Leighton  Granjre 
where  he  was  always  sure  of  a  shilling  ancl  a  s  ibstanthl 
dinner,  his  performance  being  highly  relished  by  e  ie 
Bertha,  especially  a  wild  Irish  or  Scotch  air,  with  w li  di 
he  alway.s  c  ose<l  his  programme,  and  which  I  er  ha 
would  make  him  play  oyer  ami  oyer  again,  asking  f<ri? 

vers  on  "fT  °^   '  ^^''''^""'^'  ^'"^^■'   ^vhich  was   1  er  own 
version  ot  the  unpronounceable  ^  .die  name  rnrnbnKl,, 

,  Gearan-Hachin,;  '  Hector's  Appeal ' .  l^^!^"^^ 
lu  Mr..  Leightou's  employ  was  a  rather  pretty  gid,  Mar- 


T 


I  I 


i:  mI 


86 


The  "  Scratch  Cub:' 


tha  Downs,  of  violent,  unj^ovtrnable  temper,  bui  so  much 
attached  to  her  little  charge,  with  whom  she  was  always 
.reiitle  and  patient,  that  her  mistress  overlooked  her  vio- 
lent outbursts,   and,  though  she  often  warned  H^-r.   ^tdl 
retaine<l   her  in   her  service.     This  girl   had  a  lover,   a 
worthier,  fellow  fn.m  the  neighboring  tovyn,  halt  black- 
smith  whole  poacher,  who  was  constantly  losing  his  situ- 
atio  s  on  account  of  the  troubles  he  gel  mto  with  all  the 
eame'keepers  in  the  county.     When  out  of  place,  or  out 
of  luck!  he-  found  a  ready  sympathizer  in  Martha,  who 
gave  or  lent  him  her  earnings,  and  at  length  began  ap- 
propriating small  articles  in  the  house  to  .supply  the  wants 
li  her  ueedv  lover.     These  pett>-  tlietts  being  discovered, 
and  traced' to  her,  she  was  merely  discharged,  the  k  nd. 
iiess  of  her  mistress  not  allowing  her  to  prosecute  her. 
About  three  months  after  her  departure    Bertha   disap- 
peared ;  how.  was  a  mystery  not  unravelled  for  many  weary 
years,  although  all  the  machinery  of  the  police  was  put  n, 
motion,  and  Stimulated  to  unwonted  activity  by  the  o  tei 
of  immense   rewards.     Hopeless   and   hearl-brukcn,    he. 
parents  mourned  their  loss,  waiting  in  vaiii  for  tK.ings  ol 
their  child.     The  discharged  .servant,  Martha,  had  never 
been  seen  in  the  village  or  the  neighborhood  since  .she 
left  the  Leightons,  but  it  was  she.  as  vyas  long  alter  dis- 
cov^^etl,  who  stole  Bertha.     She  must  have  watched  with 
ex.v.ordinarv  skill  and  patience  for  weeks  for  an  oppor- 
tunr.v  to  be' revenged  on  her  late  ""Stress,  and  at  ta. 
same' time  to  gratifv  the  .strange  affection  she  felt  for  Btr 
tha  bv  kidnapping  her.     This  she  contrived  to  do,  and, 
returning  swiftlv   to  London,   now  her  home,  slie  com 
pletely  eluded  even  suspicion.    .She  soon  grew  tired  oi 
her  self-imposed  burden,  and,  being  now  marrieu  to  liei 
scampish  lover,  who  found  a  congenial  aui.onimere  .or  In.-, 
talents  in  London,  she  sought  for  some  t-.-.eaiis  to  get  nO 
of  Bertha,  meanwhile  treating  her  witli  rou.stantv -increas- 
ing crueltv.     Hearing  of  a  childless  couple  who  wishea 
to  adopt  a  little  girl  she,  by  some  means,  gained  acce.s.N 
to  them,  taking  Bertha  with  her.     one  told  a  well-con- 
cocted stor>'.  and  the  people,  struck  with  the  beauty  m 
the  pitiful  little  face,  which  pleaded   more  eloquently 
than  the  words  of  the  unprincipled  woman,  took  her  ^o 


I 


^r,  buv  so  much 
ilic  was  always 
.(joked  her  vio- 
ir'ucd  hor,  still 
liad  a  lover,  a 
jvn,  half  black- 
losing  his  situ- 
ito  with  all  the 
of  place,  or  out 
11  Martha,  who 
iigth  began  ap- 
iil)ply  the  wanbi 
iug  discovered, 
rged,  the  kiiuh 
)  prosecute  her. 
,   Bertha   disap- 

for  many  weary 
olice  was  put  iii 
■ity  l>y  the  offet 
arl-broken,  hei 
n  for  tidings  ol 
rtha,  had  never 
rhood  since  she 

long  after  dis- 
i^e  watched  with 
:s  for  an  oppoi- 
■ess,  and  at  ths; 
she  felt  for  Ber 
ived  to  do,  and, 
home,  slie  com 
n  grew  tired  oi 
.'  mnrrieti  to  hei 
ii.or>imere  for  hi.-, 
i-.eaus  to  get  rid 
ustantlv-increas- 
.iple  who  wisheo 
IS,  gained  acces.». 
told  a  well-con- 
h  the  beauty  o\ 
more   eloquently 
aau,  took  her  ♦o 


T/if  "  Scrtitc/t  Club: 


87 


their  home  and  tlieir  hearts,  calling  jicr  *  Elsie  '  the  mnu- 
of  the  on  y  child  Hay  ever  ha.l,  who  died  wh  ,',  aboJ  1  c- 
age  of  Bertha.  She  soon  learned  to  l..\e  her  adon  ed 
paren  s,  an.l  the  fast-fading  me.nories  of  her  lumie  a  S  o  ' 

gentSli-^A^;.  'sSn,^:^::  TT't^:^^,  ^ 

'le^Sth'Vr"^'^^  1  !^''«'-"'  ""-^-iaU:^  weiu';  ; 

Xa-Th-;,s.;e^^^^^ 

-  re   t^  f^'\  "'  '""r>-  ^vas  exhausted  ,n   .^.'hg'  ,  e 

JnmdnthTr 'I' /""'''  °"  ""'''''''^  '''  Wain ford^  she 
,1  that  her  relative,  an  aunt  with  some  menus  had 
died  some  years  before,  and  lier  son  had  turned  her  lit  lo 
property  intocasl,  and  en.igrated  to  Anieric  O,  te  b  ok 
e  down  by  this  last  addition  to  her  misfortune,  she  fdl 
■11.  and  poor  Ivls.e  had  to  bear  the  whole  burden  not  oil 
of  nursing  her,  but  of  providing  for  the  v a   t  '  of  both 

tiSm'  1?' '"V^"  '''^T  "Hx'ople  in  the  tow:n  i nte  elw 
tliei.-^elves  in  her  unliappy  story  t^'ive  her  wnrl-  . 
needleu.,„Kni,  by  which  'ht^ontrr^ed  o\e^l  l^ilf'!;;,^ 
he  mother  from  stan-ing.  ,She  was  neat  and  exped  io  ,s 
ith  her  need  e.  and  tliey  all  commended  lur  in  lus  so 
high  y  tha  when  Mrs.  Uightou  happened  to  ^^iZ 
one  that_  she  would  recommend  a  sewing-girl  to  her  11- 
sie  s  praises  were  sounded  so  loudlv  that  Mrs   }  ei  Jiiton 

f"        1  ei  roo  .      The  good  heart  of  the  old  ladv  warmed 
b   'Z?L''  '■''  •'^^^'^^^-.P-'^tient  girl  who  bore  1  e    Jieav y 

uiouier,  and  ,>,tiove,  l)y  ever\-  menus  in  her  iKwer   to  oIIp 
v.ate  her  pams.     But  the  kind  offices  came'to     1  ite  ■  she 
,  .slow:ly  faded  and   after  a  few  months  c>f  suffei^c!    -^,;i;;  " 
borne,  died,   and  Elsie  was  again  a  homcie.« 'o^  an 


s.s 


The  "  Scratch  Club: 


Mrs   Leighton  had  grown  so  attached  to  her  thct  she  in- 
sisted on  her  Hving  witli  her  as  a  companion.     This  poor 
I'lsie  was  oiilv  too  happv  to  <lo,  .md  once  more  her  tlays 
grew  bright   and  passed  swifllv,  and  her  fair  face  wore  a 
smile  of  cahn  content.     One  lovely  snminer  inorning  Mr. 
and  Mrs.   Leighton  were  sitting  in  tlie  veranda  lu  iront 
of  their  house,  talking  in  low  tones,  as  was  their  wont,  ol 
their  long-lost  child,  when  an  old  man,  hlmd  and  inlirm, 
wandered  up  the  pathway  towards  the  house,  and,  taking 
from  under  his  threadbare  coat  a  battered  old  vio  in,  ])e- 
gan  to  plav.     With  a  .shock  of  mingled  pam  and  jdeasuie 
thev  recognii/.ed   the  vagabond   fiddler  that   used   so   to 
charm  little   Hertha,  and  whom  they  had  .seen  but  once 
since  Bertha's* disappearance,  when,  %vith  a  sum  that  sup- 
plied his  wants  for  manv  a  day,  they  dismissed  him  wit.i 
a   reciuest   not   to   return.     With  bitter  tears   streaming 
down  their  faces,   they  listened  as  he  played,  one  after 
another,  his  familiar  stock  of  tunes.     Ivlsie,  who  was  in 
the    doorway    when    he   began   to   play,    was    strangely 
affected,  and  unconsciously  drew  near.     With  trembling 
limbs  and  starting  eyes,  she  looked  wildly  at  the  once- 
familiar  scene  ;  she  listened  with  increasing  agitation  to 
the  once-familiar  airs.     Soon  the  old  fiddler  reached  his 
last  tune— the  old,  wild  Gctlic  air.     lie  had  played  but  a 
fevvmeasures  when  Bertha,  with  a  flood  of  loi-.g-forgotten 
memories  welling  up  in  her  heart,  carried  back  to  her 
long-lost  childhood,  cried,  '  It  is  "Granny  king  !        Oh, 
Mother!     father!     Dcm't  you   know  mc  ?     I   am   liltle 
Bertha  ' '     Here  my  story  ends.     Who  can  describe  their 
ioy  on  being  so  strangely  united  ?     Needless  is  it,  too,  to 
say  that  the  wanderings  of  the  old  fiddler  were  at  an  end, 
and  that  a  comfortable  cottage  slieltered  him  for  the  rest 
of  his  years.     My  story  is  true.     I  knew  Bertha  well ; 
she  i-  now  the  mistress  of  her  old  home  and  the  mother 
of  several  lovely  children,  and  no  wandering  minstrel,  be 
he  never  so  tattered  or  poor,  ever  goes  away  empty  from 
her  hospitable  door." 

When  the  Doctor  had  finished  his  story  every  one  lit  a 
fresh  cigar  and  tried  to  find  a  more  comfortable  position. 
Crabbe\iuted  that  he  thought  the  young  woman  ought 


Tlu-  "  Scratch  Cluh." 


89 


icr  thc't  she  iii- 
,011.     This  poor 
more  htr  days 
air  faco  wore  a 
IT  nioniinj^  Mr. 
L-raiula  in  iroiit 
■,  tliuir  wont,  of 
iiul  and  infinn, 
ISC,  and,  taking 
1  old  violin,  i)c'- 
un  and  jjluasure 
liat   used   so   to 
1  seen  bat  once 
a  sum  that  sup- 
lissed  him  witli 
tears   streaminj^ 
layed,  one  ai'lcr 
sic,  who  was  in 

was    strangely 
With  trembling 
lly  at  the  once- 
ing  agitation  to 
iUer  reached  his 
lad  played  but  a 
)f  lor.g-forgotten 
ied   back  to  he 
ly  King  !  "     Oh, 
It?     I   am   little 
\\\  describe  their 
Hess  is  it,  too,  to 
r  were  at  an  end, 
him  for  the  rest 
ew  Bertha  well ; 

and  the  motlier 
;ring  minstrel,  be 
iway  empty  from 

■y  every  one  lit  a 
Portable  position, 
mg  woman  ought 


to,  or  might  have,  fotnid  out  sooner  who  she  was.  Dalton 
said  that  very  likely  the  knowledge  or  suspicion  had  lor 
some  time  been  unconsciously  growing  on  her,  and  th.. 
old  violin-player's  melody  was  like  the  spark  t<i  the  tin- 
der, and  made  all  her  apparently-forgotten  associations 
and  memories  flame  ui>  to  sudden  brightness.  Parks 
wanted  to  know  if  they  thought  she  gave  sure  indications 
of  musical  ability,  but  his  question  was  ignored  as  irrele- 
vant. Crabbe  then  said  he  would  tell  them  a  musical 
story,  but  memory  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  lie  had 
heard  it  from  a  fnend  whose  business  required  his  resi- 
dence for  a  year  in  the  town  where  the  events  narrated  in 
the  story  took  place.  All  the  members  pressed  him  to 
proceed  with  his  story,  knowing  well  that  there  would 
be  fun  of  some  .sort  in  it,  or  Crabbe  would  not  think  it 
worth  the  telling. 

Dibbleville  is  a  quiet,  out-of-the-way  town  in  one  of  the 
New  iMigland  States,  no  railroad  runs  within  twenty 
""-'tv,  1  •  "•n'-''V  ^''""J^'l't  it  worth  its  while  to  construct 
a  Dibblevdle  Hranch,"  no  summer  boarder  has  ever 
uivadcd  It,  or  ever  will.  It  has  no  scenerv,  no  fishing, 
no  boating,  not  c-ven  a  grove  of  trees  large  enough  to 
shelter  summer  flirtations.  Nothing  but  wide  cornflelds 
dusty  roads,  and  white  frame  hou.ses  dotted  irregularlv 
overthefields  or,  in  Dibbleville  proper,  ccmdensed  into 
a  slragghug  little  cluster  which  ends  abruptly  with  the 
•street,  at  the  picket  fence,  white-washed  of  course,  of  the 
white  frame  Congregational  church,  where  good  Father 
Alliope  Ins  preached  and  prayed,  to  nearlv  three  genera- 
tions of  Dibbleville  church-goers.  Standing  in  front  of 
the  church  you  have  at  one  view  all  the  beauties  of  Dib- 
bleville —architectural  of  course  I  mean.  On  the  rieht 
hand,  the  first  house,  with  a  lantern  over  the  street  door 
always  lit  o  nights,  is  the  hard-worked  village  doctor'.s. 
I.  McBolus  M.  D.,"  is  on  his  bright  brass  doorplate. 
^  1  lirough  the  open  windows  of  his  ofhce  on  the  ground 
floor,  you  can  occasionally  catch  a  glimpse  of  .s(jme  fear- 


90 


The  "  Scmtch  Club." 


)  3;; 


HI. 

H 


stricken   rustic,  gazing   arouml  him  with  awed  visage  on 
the  l.iK  an.l  liHU-  l.oltlcs  ..l"  all  cnlers  that  lino  Uk'  Unctor  > 
shclvJ;!..      Alter   y..u    pass  the  I)..clor's  K^r-lcn   the    next 
house   is    tlie    little  coltaRe  ol  the  wulovv  Smiles       llm 
she  lives  with  her  overK'n.wn  son  Johnny,  the  prule  ot  her 
heart      Tlien   comes  an  open  field  nhere  all  the  geese, 
ducks,  and  chickens  of  the  village  meet  m  daily  cmivocv 
tion.     Then  the  l.lacksinilh's  shop  from   which  comes  all 
day   long   the   s.mgh  of  the   bellows,  or   the-  nng  ot  the 
anvil   .'is"()ldJelT,"ashe  is  called,  and  "\onngJell, 
his  son,  blow  up  the  glowing. fire,  or  hammer  at  the  shoes 
for  the  sleepy  horses  that  are  tethered  to  the  fence,  vvlik 
their  scared V  less  sleepv  owners    lounge  on    the    benches 
i„  front  of  the  neighboring  tavern,  exchanging  scraps  ol 
talk   about    crops   and    fallows,   or   cows   and  calves,  or 
pigs  ami  politics.     On  the  left  side,  opposite  the  Doctor  h, 
is  the  country  "  store,'  kept  bv  shrewd  Nicholas   Driver. 
No  one  can  tell  him  who  should  have  credit,  and  who  ..e 
made  t.)  pay  cash,  or  where  is  the  best  place  m  Bo.ston 
to  buy  gocls  ;  he  is  reported  the  richest  man  m  he  county 
and  probably  is,  and  deserves  to  be.     lie  has  liiree  assis- 
tants in  the  •'  store.-     The  wi.low  Smiles  s  Johnny  pre- 
sides over  the  grocery  department      A  pale     melancholy 
youth,  who  oils  his  hair,  ICdward  Trimble,  dispenses   the 
yards  of  ribb:)n  and  calico,  or  papers  of  pins  and  needles 
to  the  farmers'   buxom  daughters,  by  whom  (the  daugh- 
ters of  course)  he    is  th.mght  ■•  sweet  "  to  the  deep    dis- 
cust  of  their  hobnailed  admirers.     Mill  Davis,  a  red-haired, 
sciuare-set  youth  has  eharge  of  the  hardware  and  .shoe  de- 
partment.    Old  Nicholas  sits  at  Ins  raised    desk,  keeping 
a    sharp   eye   on   thein   all,   ;.nly  descending   when    the 
presence  of  some  of  the  more  important  of  the  Dibblevill- 
lans  requires  some  special  attention  from  him   in   person. 
The  next  house,  the  only  brick  house  m  the  village,  is 
Lawyer  Sharpe's,  a  keen,  wiry  little  man,  with  gray  hair, 
and  gold  spectacles.     Then  conies  the   new   drug   store 
just  opened,  by  a  "Graduate  in  Pharmacy,     as  his  franieo 
diploma   announces,  from   Boston,  a  pale,  pimp  y-faced 
young  man,  who  looks  as  if  he  were  always  .smel hug  at 
some  nauseous   drug.     Doctor    McBolus   was   rather  in- 
clined to  look  on  the  drug   "  store"  and   its  proprietor. 


I 


1  nwccl  visaKt-* »'" 

.  lilK'tlK'Dnt-tor'^ 

;ar(lcii    Uic    uosl 
w  Siniks.     Ikii' 
•,  tlic  pride  of  lifv 
re  all  the  jj;cfst.', 
in  daily  coiivofa 
which  comes  all 
r   the  riiin  of  the 
[1  "  Vouun  Jeff,  " 
inner  at  the  .sh()e:i 
I  the   fence,  while 
on    the    benches 
langin^  scraps  of 
,s   anil  calves,   or 
isite  the  Doctor's, 
Nicholas   Driver, 
redit,  and  who  he 
L  place  in   Hoston 
man  in  the  county 
e  has  lliree  assis- 
les's  Johtniy  pre- 
pale,    melancholy 
l)le,  dispenses   the 
pins  and  needles 
diom  (the  dauj^h- 
'  to  the  deep    dis- 
ivis.  a  red-haired, 
ware  and  shoe  de- 
;ed    desk,  keeping 
ending   when    the 
of  the  Dibhlevill- 
nihim   in   person. 
;  in  the  village,  is 
m,  with  gray  hair, 
new  drug   store, 
icy,"  as  his  framed 
pale,   pim]ily-faced 
dways  smelling  at 
US   was   rather  in- 
and    its  proprietor. 


I 


^^ 


^x. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 

■-IIIIM    IJM 

ii£  IM       2.2 

I.I 

1-    itt 

|2.0 

18 

!.25 

1.4 

1.6 

Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


v>. 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


A 
% 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


The  "  Scratch  C/uIk" 


91 


Peter  Pillick,  as  a  needless  innovation.  But  the  ladies, 
yonn;4  and  old,  took  his  part.  They  liked  to  go  to  his 
iiieelv  kept  stnre,  to  >i;ossip  with  him  and  each  other,  and 
buy,  or  price,  the  little  bottles  of  scent,  or  sweet-smelling 
.soaj),  or  other  such  tritlcs,  dis])layed  so  temptiui^ly  in  his 
glass  cases  ;  then  he  was  so  "gentlemanlike,"  and  so  well 
informed  in  all  the  customs  of  the  best  society  in  Ho.ston 
that  he  was  the  authority  on  all  questions  of  cti(iuette  or 
good  manners  or  good  taste,  for  even  Dibbleville  had 
some  rudiments  of  these  things,  so  it  was  no  wonder  they 
admired  him.  Spite  of  his  pimples,  and  his  lank  thin 
bod V  he  was  a  dangerous  rival  of  even  the  Adonis,  \ed 
Trimble.  The  rest  of  the  village  can  be  left  to  your  \m- 
agination.  Now  there  was  a  movement  afoot  which 
agitated  Dibbleville  society  to  its  centre,  and  this  is  how 
it  came  about.  Ned  Trimble,  that  nothing  might  be 
wanting  to  c-omplete  his  perfections,  played  the  flute,  the 
girls  .said  "divinely."  Peter  Pillick  ])la\ed  the  fiddle 
pretty  well,  he  was  first  violin  in  the  church  choir.  Bill 
Davis  was  second  violin  in  the  choir,  and  old  JelT,  a 
ponderous,  good  natured,  Indddieaded  giant,  played 
the  bass  01;  a  system  of  his  own.  He  stuck  little  white 
pegs  in  the  fingerboard  to  mark  the  places  to  put  his 
fingers  and  numbered  the  notes  he  had  to  play  in  this  in- 
genious fashion  :  C  2  meant  IC  on  the  C  string  ;  G  3,  C 
on  the  G  string  and  so  on,  up  to  A  3,  l)ut  no  higher.  He 
never  ventured  beyond  the  first  position.  The  Doctor's 
daughter,  the  belle  of  the  vdlage,  i)layed  the  melodeon  ;  a 
simple  youth,  the  son  of  a  farmer,  Dick  Jones  by  name, 
played '  the  accordeon  ;  last,  but  not  least,  Harry 
Sanders,  the  son  of  a  well-to-do  farmer,  i)layed  the  cornet. 
A  jovial  merr\- fellow  was  Marry,  a  devoted  admirer  of 
pretty  Polly,  who  always  seemed  rather  inclined  to  him, 
in  fact  the  whole  village  looked  on  it  as  a  match,  but 
when  gentlemanly  Peter  made  his  appearance  and  im- 
mediatelv  enrolled  himself  as  chief  of  the  brigade  of 
Polly's  worshippers,  the  fickle  Polly  flattered  at  his  pre- 
ference, cooled  t(jwards  the  faithful  Harry.  They  liad 
some  words  about  it  and  Harry  went  off,  much  to  Polly's 
secret  sorrow.  But  I  ha\-e  not  yet  told  what  was  agi- 
tating  the   village   .so   deeply.     Peter  had  lofty   notions 


->« 


li 


92 


The  "  Scratch   Cluh. 


about  music,  as  hecamu  one  wlio  li;ul  livrd  in  Hoston,  and 
SL-(.'ing  so  nuK-h  talent  lyiui;   idle,  lie  (.oneeived  the  idea 
of  fonuiui;  atiorchestra,  and  cultivating  the  nn^ical  taste 
of  l)il)l)leville.     This  it  was  tliat  set   the  younti;  people 
agog,  and   made    the   old    folks  >h:ike  their  heads,    and 
wonder  what  "them  boys  and  girls  would  be  up  to  next." 
Peter  broached  his  idea  on  I'riday  night  after  prayer  meet- 
ing.    Tlie  others  entered  warmly  into  it.     A  meeting  was 
called   for   the   next   evening,   before   choir   practice,    at 
Peter's  store,  and  the  Dibbleville  orchestra  was  organized. 
A  <lilTicult.v  was   encountered  at  the  start  that  for  a  time 
threatened  to  overwhelm  tlie  young   orcliestra— this   was, 
Who  should  be  conductor  ?      Peter,  as  the  originator,   and 
the  best  nuisician,  claimed  this  post  as  his  by  right.     Hut 
the  others  convinced  him  that  his  violin  was  the  mainstay 
of  the  orchestra,  and  that   he  couldn't  play    and  ctmduct 
both.     They  luckily  hit  on  a    happy  compromise.      Peter 
was  to  be  called  leader  and  director  of  the  orchestra,  and 
Solomon  Graves,  the  leader  of  the   choir,  was  to  be   con- 
ductor under  Peter's  directions.       This   Solomon  was   a 
lanky  black-haired  youth,  with  long  cadaverous  face,  the 
only'son  of  a  worthy  farmer  coujile.     IJis  parents  and  him- 
self thought  he  was  a  genius,  l)Ut  unfortunately,  he  had, 
in  spite  of  his  genius,  failed  as  a  ]ireacher  \Crabbc — {sollo 
rv'fr)  then  he  mit<^t  have  been    stui)idj   and    as  a   school- 
master, and  was  now  living  at  home,  doing    nothing   but 
mooning  vacantly   round   the  fields.      Among  his   other 
accomplishments'he  had  picked  uj)  a  little  musical  know- 
ledge, enough  to  read  at  sight  a  psalm  tune,  and  was  thus 
tpialified  lo'   act    as  choir    master.     The  melodeon    being 
an  awkward  instrument  to  carry  about,  the  good-naturc(.l 
Doctor  gave  them  permission  to  hold  their   rehearsals  in 
his  parlor.     Tuesday  was  decided  on  as  the  evening  for 
])ractice.     Then  the'ciuestion  arose  as  to  what  nuisic  they 
should  plav.      Peter  was   in   favor  of  attacking  Mo/.art's 
svmphonies  at  once,  but  reluctantly   gave  up   the  notion 
on  fniding  that  they  could  uot  be  obtained,  arranged   lor 
an  orchestra  of  the  peculiar  construction  of  theirs.     Old 
leff  thought  thev    had   better  confine  their  attention   to 
"psalm   toons."'     He  had  marked   all   the  bass   in   the 
"  Jioston  Acad«iuiy's"  collection,  and  he  "  warn't  a  goin' 


11  I c  "Scratch  C/ii/r" 


0.^ 


(1  in  Boston,  and 
nccivfd  the  i<h;a 
lliL-  nri^ical  lasU- 
lie  young  people 
:hcir  heads,  and 
1  l)e  uj)  to  next." 
ifter  prayer  nieet- 
A  meeting  was 
lioir  i)ractiee,  at 
ra  was  organized, 
rl  that  for  a  time 
lestra— this  was, 
e  originator,  and 
is  l)v  right.  Hut 
^vas  tile  mainstay 
ilay  and  conduet 
nproniise.  Peter 
lie  oreheslra,  and 
:,  was  to  l)e  con- 
Solomou  was  a 
laverous  face,  the 

parents  and  him- 
tunately,  he  had, 
.r  [Crabbe — (solto 
;ind  as  a  sehooh 
)ing  nothing  hut 
Among  his  other 
lie  nuisieal  know- 
Line,  and  was  thus 
L^  melodeon    being 

the  good-natured 
leir  rehearsals  in 
\  the  evening  for 
)  what  nuisie  they 
lacking  Mo/.art's 
.ve  up  the  notion 
ned,  arranged  for 
>n  of  theirs.  Old 
their  attention  to 
I  the  l)ass  in  the 
,e  "  warn't  a  goin' 


t    fooi.uMvh.s  limejnarknr   .sympathvs,  wotever   thev 
u..e.        He  was  paedied  l.y  Peter  promi'sing  to  mark    a  1 
us  l.a.s,ses  k.r  hun,  and  so  gave  up  the  "p^alm  too.  ''idea 
uttheelue     ddheulty    was    not  yet    overeon.e      ha     is' 
here    eonhl  they  g.i  nmsic   that  was  so  arran-'e     tl  ai 
t.CN-  eould  ut.hx.e  vA\  their   forees  .^      Thev   w    c "  a  n  o 
|lcspa,rn.g.  when  Peter  wrote  to  a  friend  iu"  Ho:  ton  k 

f  he  eould  help   urn.     This  frien.l  knew  a  nursieian    who 
a  range<l  p.eees  for  uunor  theatres  or  an.ateur  orehestras 
He  undertook  to  ft.rnish  them  with  a  ehoiee  .selee  En    of 
P"P>-.  :tr  an-s,    'arranged  for  flute,  two  violins,  viol  ..cell 
cornel,    melo.leo.,,   an.l   aecordeon,    hv    Ilerr   H  aS    1    ' 
composer    d.reetor.  ete..  etc.,    Hoston/'     Tin       ..'^   ^s 

as  lolous.     T  his  m.aclune  was  m  the  key  of  1)    an.l   had 
two  drones  udueh_sonnded  the  tonic  and  ck>minant  d loni 


1 


He  srnvf/  1  ,  w   •  ,  ^"^  ^•""^"  'i"f'  dominant  chords. 

He  gave  it  uhat  tew  single  notes  it  could  pjav  in  the  kev 
I  c  niusic  happeiie,    to  he  in,  and  when   t!  e  harmo     •    le  1 

onllleS;^''''"'"''^"'^'^''^^^^^''^-^''-^'--^"--- 

tnin^'''■M'  '^'"'■^'\=^>'  ^'Veiling  arrived,  and  punctual   to  tlu' 
tnin  ite    he  members  took  their  places.      Poilv   loss  ,        , 
er  head  ami   put  on  her  most  unconcenu.l  look,'lo  hi   e 
er  pleasure  at  seeing  M.arry  again.      Dick  Jones    vho      ,s 
le  er  in  a  parlor  before,  blnshed   and   shunied.   a i       fl:' 
hat  he  had  more  legs  and  arms  than   he  ever  suspecte< 
Peter,    important,    bustled  about,  placing  his    forces   ail 
g.VMiig  imperious  d  reetions,  which'  were^choed     3    Sol   . 
noil    who  was  in  all  his  glory,  arnned  with  a  stout  sat 
\n^^  lor  a  baton.     To  it  ihey  went,  with  zeal  an  l^er^ 
lessl  "los  '"i^'^^  vigorously,  and  gazing  vacant  and  1  ,^e: 
mce       Th        f    1  "?"'■"'•    ^'■-'■"'-    t"   ''^^^^'1   '-^'1    tl'^'  Pni-ls   at 
»-.      liie  inelodeon  and   the  striuirs   >r„t  on   nntiv   u-..ll 
being  old   practitioners.       The  fli^e  blew     p,    die  1    : 
two  or  three   random  notes  at  intervals,   ahv  1  s    Cp  ur 
•short  with  a  knowing  look  as  if  he  was  ui)  to  Ins  mn  a   d 
Knew  what  he  was  about.     The  cornet  g.ave  it  iVat  .mi 
alter  a  single  blasi,  an.l  looked  at  PoIIv,  iin  il     lie\  a  tz 
was  done,  when  with  a  start  he  remeinbe;e,VwLre  lie  wa 
and  blew  the  last  two  notes  as  a  solo.      Hut  the  ui.luck; 


1 1 


I 


i 


'm 


i^t 


riw  "  ScraUlt  Clubr 

accordcon  wa.  the  ^f^^^^^.^  ^T^ 

contusion  he  kc])!  .^"''"'"f ." "J^i'^^    ..nv       Whc.i    ihcy 
places  to   the   'l^'^':''"\-'\  •:'  ^.'r tS^  row.  mul  U^^^^^   all 

ended,  Solomon  ^^  \P^-^^;'^1  \''l  "   ^.d  for  a  first  attempt, 
said  to  each  other  tnat  >t^vas  "oW^J^^;^^    t  r        ^^^^^^   ^^^^^^^^_ 

They  were  all  ,n  earnest  ^^^^  /  ^'^^."'^,.,,u  .,,- pieces  very 
they  manaued  to  learn  all  ^1^^^^  ^y^^  ^j- ^,,,.  ^^eVordeon  to 
well,  barring  the  unkM-tn  u^te   ul  Ua>^  ^c,  ^^^^_^  ^^ 

come  in  ""^■^P^'^^".^'^>  ''  'Vthc   countrv  round  to  hear  the 
f.reat  was  the  curiosity  "f^'^;;  /;      "     j^.,,  tnuilly  agreed  to 
..chestra.     'U  gratuity  i^^cjr      uuK  ^^^  ^,  ,^ 
give  a  concert,  the  piocLLO.        s  religious  object, 

Tor  the  Sunday  ^'^^'l^'''"^,  ^J^,  ^-^  ' co^Ksent-.d  to  let  them 
the  deacons,  '^Itej- some   leMtatumc)  ^^.^^i^^.i      ae- 

have  the  use  ol  the  ,^l"^/,^^\  .  ^; '^,  '^J  classical  music  to 
sirous  that  th^  shmrW  P£^-\,,,  decided  on  the 
elevate  the  taste  ot  ^hc    ^  U'  J,      •  •     ^^.,^^  arranged 

Andante  of  the  ^^^'P"^^,  ^^^  "\^?E^^^^^  and  they  went 

lorthembythet.dcM.te       Icr    Bla.a^^^    ^g  ^^^^  symphony, 

lo  work.     Peter  told  tl^<^»    ^^^  J^or^    .    .  airectious, 

and  insisted  especia Uy  on    he  "^  -^   '  „  ,,^.  i,,,i„^  any 

that  they  should  no   spm   Oic      ^^^    uim>rtunately, 

body  into  the  secret.     ^';7,   .\    ',  j.^  ^rept  into  the    or- 
that\  spirit  of  nisubordu  ton  hu^^  ^^^^   ^^^^ 

chestra.     PoUy  thought  ^ha  JUc  K  ^^^  Trimble 

plav  were  very  stupid  ^j"^  "/ \^\4''^,    .'^h  of  the  melody. 

bought  that  the  flute  ^^i*^!  ^  me  e  i     g         ^^  ^^ 

Dick  was  i-'i^-V'  t^r^tou^ -ui^ 'dominant  of  1),     All 
bim  about  his  uulortunaLonKai  ^^  superiorit>  . 

^vere   more  or  less    '''.r^.f.vas     produced  ;  in  liis  desire 
Am.ther  element  of  discord  u  as   inu  ^^^^^^^   .^^^^^ 

U,  give  effect  to  the    ,  surpn-  .^^^  ^^^^^^^e  Liare  drum, 
serviceyoungjeff.  Nvbowasan        1  ,^^^^^^^^^  ^,,a  h^s 

and  Johnny  Smiles,  who,  armed  ^^.  ^^^.^^^^  ^^.,^^ 

niotber's  old  sheet-iron  tea tni3.1. out ^^^^^  ^^^^   ^^^^^^ 

'::^n^  il^Sat l5;ey^^but!>ne  bang  in  the  whole 
programme.  tno-.^tlier  to  this  effect,  Harry, 


The  "Snatch  Cliibr 


"51 


;ioii.     Poor  Dick 
lK->t,  '»ut  in  liis 
iLS  ill  tli«^'  wrong 
y.       Whun    tlit-y 
■o\v,  :iiul  ihey   all 
)r  a  first  atlcinpt. 
hard,  ami   finally 
)ck  of  pieces  very 
r  ihe  aceurdeon  to 
■  dominant  ot    IK 
omul  to  hear  the 
V  hnally  agreed  to 
purchase  of  liDoks 
religious  object, 
ented"  to  let  them 
s  particularly  de- 
■lassical   music   to 
il   decided  on    the 
rhis  \vas  arranged 
.Ig,  and  they  went 
of' the  symphony, 
',  in  his  directitms, 
,e"  bv  letting  any- 
ied,  linib'-tunately, 
crept  into  the   or- 
jhords  she   had  to 
etty.    Ned  Trimble 
ugh  of  the  melody. 
; 'always  girding  at 
ominant  ol  D.     All 
airs  of  superiority, 
duced  ;  in  his  desire 
-r  had  pressed  into 
at  the  snare  druiu, 
;i  hammer  and  h\s 
it  a  yard  wide,  was 
huny  felt   that   they 
,ie  bang  in  the  whole 

to  this  effect,  Harry, 
le  desire  to  annoy  his 


I 


rival  in  Pully's  affccliou.  eoncxived  a  deei)  plot,  wiiich  \w 
coiniminii-atLMl    to  llif    m.ilcoiitents,   wlio  jikdgfd   llitiii 
selves  to  lollow   his  directions,      h] veil  old  JelT  \va-,  heard 
111  growl   that,    "He  didn't  see   nothin'    so   niightv  sur- 
l>risin'    in   .Mr.    Iladen's   .\udant."      At    last  the  night  of 
llie    (oncert    came.     The  larmers  with    their   wi\es  and 
daughters  came  from  all  the  country  round,  iu  such  num- 
bers that  tlie  long  shed  beliind  the  cluirch,  would  si-arcely 
accommodate  tiie  crowd  (jf  buggies,    wagons,  and   inick- 
hoanls,    that    sought    its   shelter.     The'   church  was   .so 
crowded,  that  the  Parson  felt  a  twinge, comixiunded  of  re- 
gret   for  the   "worldliness"   of  liis  ])eoi)le  and  a  slight 
feeling  of  jealou.sy.     The  people  all  .sat  with   solemn  faces 
as  befitted  the  "  meetin'    house"   or   talked   iu    inaudible 
whispers,  as  peo])le   ilo   in  church.     When  the  hour  fi)r 
beginning   arrived,   ami   the  orchestra  was  in   its  place. 
Parson  Alhoi)e  walked  to  tiie  front  of  the  platform  to  say 
a  "few   words,"    in  the  course  of  which   he   referred   to 
"  prasin'  the  I.ord  with  instruments  of  ten   string.s  "   and 
to  "  David's  harj)  of  solemn  sound,"  also  to  the"  natural 
desire  of  youth  for   something  amusin',"   hinting   that  a 
meeting  for  prayer  with  "  singiu'  and   makiii'  melody  iu 
their  hearts  "  would  be  far  belter,  and  altogether  .speak- 
ing as  ministers  d(j  about  thing.sthey  don't  (juite  like,  be- 
cause they  are  not  at  the  head  and  trout  of  them,  and  have 
to  take  a  back  .seat.     [/M  Coodiiiaii—A  libel— I  will  .say 
something  about  that  when   you  finish.]     He  closed  his 
few  words  by   "  ofTerin'    up"   a  prayer  for  the  Sabbath 
.School,  the  Church,  the  State,  the  country,   the  "Presi- 
dent and  Congress   then  assembled,"    the   whole  world, 
and  the  heathen,  and  at  last  sat  down,  to  the  evident  re- 
lief of  the  as.seinbly,  and   the  concert  began.     Solomon 
was   in  a  very   nervous   state.      Peter  had  bullied  what 
little  sense  he  had  out  of  him, with  multifarious  directions 
as  to  hisjiosition,  his  beating,  and  soon  ;  the  con.sequence 
was  that  he  nearly  up.set  the  fir.st  piece,  by  saving,  as  was 
his   cu.stom   with  his  singing  class,    "one,    two,    three, 
sing" — however,  they  recovered  themselves,  and  nothing 
iiiarred  the  jx-rformance    but  the  failure   of  Trimble  to 
"  come  in  "  soon  enough  with  a  solo  passage  ;   he  com- 
menced a  bar  too  late,   but  nothing  daunted,  kept  on  to 


II 


96 


riie 


Scnitr'i 


Clubr 


thf  ftid     Also,  poor  Dick's  acconk-on  would  burst  in  with 
the   tonic   and  doniiiianl  of   D  in  the  most    r'lexpcclcd 
places.     With  trifling  exceptions  of  this  nature  all  went 
well,  until  the  great  piece  of  the  evening,  the  last  on   the 
prog'ranune,  was  reached,   the  "  Andant  of  the  vSurprise 
Sympathy,"  as  thev  called  it.     Hxpectation   was  on  lip- 
toe    to  hear  this.      Rumors  of  its   "surprisui' "    nature 
had  been  circulated  everywhere.     Rumors  also  of  an   un- 
expected surprise  were  whispered  among  the  knownigones. 
There  was  a  long  pause,  while  I'eter  buzzed  about,  swell- 
ing with  importance,  giving  orders  to  his  forces.     At  last 
they  began,  the  flute,  the  two  violins,  and  the  violoncello, 
as  (lelicatelv   as  a  cat  in  walnut-slKll  shoes.     Then,   as 
Solomon  raised  his  .stick,  his  left  hand,   and  himselt,   on 
his  toes,  to  give  emphasis  to  the  "  surprise,"'— before  he 
"came  down  "— Johniiv    led  off  with   a   furious  solo  on 
the  tea  tray  ;  Vovmg  Jeff  followed  with  a  roll  on  thedruin  ; 
Dick's  accordeon  went  off  with  its  "  hee  haw,  lice  haw,"  in 
the  key  of  1),  and  Ilarrv  "  blew  a  blast  so  long  and  loud," 
ending   with    several   cavalry  calls.     vSolomon   was   par- 
alyzed.    Peter,  aghast,  swore  under  his  breath.      I'olly, 
who  was  in  the  secret,  laughed  till  the  tears   rolled  down 
her  face.     The  audience,   thinking  it  was  all  right,   ap- 
plauded vociferou.slv.     The  Widow  Smiles  beamed  on  her 
neighbors,  saving  :'"  Mv  Johnny  got  in  ahead  of  all  on 
'em  with  his  sur])rise."     At  last  the  conspirators  stop])ed, 
out  of  breath,  and  the  rest  staggered  on  with  the  move- 
ment, Old  Jeff  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  jolly  face.  ^  But 
every  now  and  then,  at  a  signal   from   Harry,   the   "sur- 
prise "  came  in  again  with  a  crash,   always    received  by 
the  audience  with  rapturous  applause,  and  by  Peter  with 
a  start  and  a  look  of  anguish.     At  last  it  was  over.  Parson 
Alhop'^  came  forward,  beaming- with  smiles,  and  desired 
to  express  his  thanks,  and  the  thanks  of  his  brethren  in 
the  congregation  to  the  young  people  for  the  innocent,  de- 
lightful   evening's    entertainment    they    had    provided. 
Especially  would  he  commend  the  performance  of  the  last 
selection,  which  was,  he  was  told,  a  production  of  one  of 
Germany's  greatest  mtisical  geniuses.     Without  presum- 
ing to  be  critical,  he  would  say  that  it  exhibited,   in  a 
marked  degree,  the  combination  of  sweet  music,  with  un- 


The  "  Scmfc/i  Clithr 


97 


lid  l)iirst  in  wiUi 
idsl    i"iex])L'clcHl 
iu\tiue   all  went 
lla-  last  iin   the 
of  the  Snrprise 
ion   was  on  lip- 
|)risin'  "    nalnre 
-s  also  of  an   nn- 
iicknowingonfS. 
zed  about,  swell- 
.  foires.     At  last 
I  the  violoncello, 
hoes.     Then,   as 
and  himself,   on 
•ise," — before  he 
fnrions  solo  on 
roll  on  thedrnm  ; 
aw,  hee  haw,"  in 
1  long  and  loud," 
ilonion   was   par- 
i  breath.      Polly, 
.•ars   rolkd   down 
as  all  right,   a])- 
les  beamed  on  her 
I  ahead  of  all  on 
spiratorsstopi)ed, 
I  with  the  move- 
jolly  face.     Bnt 
larry,   the   "sur- 
i-ays    received  by 
ind  by  Peter  with 
;  war,  over.  Parson 
liles,  and  desired 
)f  his  brethren  in 
■  the  iiniocent,  de- 
y-    had    provided, 
rmance  of  the  last 
idnction  of  one  of 
Without  presnm- 
it  exhibited,  in  a 
et  music,  with  un- 


pleasant noises,  which  he  was  assured  was  characteristic 
of  German  nuisio.  Then,  after  re(|uesting  the  congrega 
tion  to  rise  and  sing  the  long-metre  doxolo^jv,  he  ilis- 
missed  them  with  a  blessing.  As  soon  as  his  back  was 
turned,  Peter,  boiling  with  r.ige,  ])itched  into  his  recalci- 
trant orchestra  ;  they  sheltered  themselves  Ijehind  Harry's 
broad  shoulders.  He  simply  laughed  at  Peter's  rage. 
Peter  would  willingly  have  procec<led  to  extremities 
Willi  him.  l)ut  a  whok'some  fear  of  Harry's  stalwart  arms 
dictated  pnideiice.  Hapi)eniiig  to  catch  sight  of  the 
laughing  Polly,  he  turned  to  her  as  a  safer  object  on 
which  to  vent  his  wrath.  iUit  at  his  first  word, he  ol).served 
a  sudden  clenching  of  Harry's  fists,  and  a  Hash  in  his 
eye.liiat  warned  him  that  this  was  more  dangerous  ground 
than  the  ollur,  and  with  some  imli.stinct  allusions  to 
"  barbarians"  and  "country  l)umi)kiiis"  he  slunk  away, 
and  Polly,  quite  out  of  conceit  of  him,  .swallowed  her 
piide  and  ])eiiitently  begged  for  Harry's  forgiveness, 
whuh  he  was  willing  enough  to  grant.  Thus  ended  the 
l)il)l)kville  orchestra,  why,  the  couiitrv  i)eople  never 
could  understand,  and  to  this  dav  they'  talk  about  the 
"  surprise  "  as  the  grandest  thing  ever  heard. 

No  sooner  had  Cral)be  ended  than  Dr.  Goodman,  who 
seemed  imi)atient  for  the  opjwrtunity,  began  with  some 
warmth  his  protest  against  the  libel,  as  he  called  it,  that 
Crabbe  had  perpetrated  on  his  order. 

Dr.  (nmiman.  I  think  that,  as  a  class,  ministers  of  all 
denominations  are  quite  as  liberal,  if  not  more  so,  to  all  in- 
nocent amusements,  as  any  other  class  in  the  community. 

Crabbe.  Perhaps  so,  Doctor,  if  we  accept  their  defini- 
tions of  what  is  innocent,  definitions  that  are  sometimes 
founded  on  distinctions  that  would  puzzle  a  Philadelphia 
lawyer  to  understand,  for  example,  chess  is  innocent, 
cards  are  wicked,  croquet,  well  ;  I  believe  that  is  not  quite 
determined  yet.  Why,  is  there  anything  more  intrinsi- 
cally wicked  in  playing  any  one  game  for  amusement  than 
another  ?      I   can   easily    b-lieve  that   a   simple-minded 


os 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


country  ministcT  iiuj,^ht  be  in  doubl  as  to  llic  iin-toccncf 
or  propriety  of  any  anuiscnKiil  not  guided  and  dirccttd 
by  himstlf. 

Hr.  (loodman.  ICvcu  aibnilting  that  to  l)c  true— which 
I  do  not— why  do  you  include  all  ministers  in  your 
sweeping  assertion  ? 

Crahbr.  Don't  blanu-  me  for  it.  I  only  repeat  the  story 
as  I  heard  it  from  my  friend.  He,  I  can  as>ure  yon  is  a 
man  of  keen  oljservation,  and  must  have  seen  something 
in  your  profession  to  warrant  his  remarks. 

Dr.  ( loodman.  That  is  a  true  proverl)  abotit  "  birds  of  a 
feather."    I  felt  sure  that  was  an  interpolation  of  yotn-own. 

Crabhc.  Fie,  Doctor!   Are  you   going  to  turn  satirical? 

Dalton  Tlie  Doctor  seems  to  forget  that  all  minister, 
are  not  gifled  with  his  catholic  charity,  for  all  men  and 
all  things.  1  dare  say  many  of  his  brethren  would  lliink 
he  was  guilty  of  a  sinful  waste  of  time,  in  coming  here 
once  a  week  to  listen  to  four  fiddles.      Isn't  it  so  Doctor  ''. 

Dr.  (ioodmau,  (xclio  /ia.<  quite  recovered  Iiis  cqtiiViiiiiity). 
Ah,  well ;  perhaps  so.  I  am  afraid  we  are  not  all  as  lib- 
eral as  we  might  be  to  those  wIkj  differ  from  our  notions 
of  right  and  wrong. 

Crabhc.  Then  you  forgi\e  ni>-  friend  ? 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  don't  care  a  i>in  for  you  or  your  friend. 
You  may  say  an>tliing  satirical  you  please.  I  know 
that,  a.s  a  rule,  ministers  are  guided  by  con.science,  and  if 
they  make  mistakes  they  are  genendly  on  the  right  side. 

Crabbc.  What  is  a  mistake  on  the  right  side?  Can 
mistakes  be  right  ? 

Dalton.  Crabbe  you  are  ouljr  talking  for  the  sake  of 
being  disagreeable. 

Parks.  When  Crabbe  plays  A,  on  the  open  string  when 
it  should  be  on  the  D  string,  it  is  a  mistake  on  the  right 
side,  because  it  is  more  likely  to  be  in  tune. 


()  ll>C    ilUiDI'L'IK'f 

ed  aufl    (lirecti'd 

l)c  true — which 
iiistcrs    in   your 

rciieat  the  story 
assure  you  is  a 
seen  souiethin;; 

)Otit  "  l)ir(ls  of  a 
ion  of  your  own. 
(I  turn  satirical  ? 
at  all  minister, 
for  all  men  and 
ren  would  think 
in  coming  here 
I't  it  so  Doctor  ? 
/lis  ('(fiiaiiiiin'ly). 
re  not  all  as  lib- 
"roui  our  notions 


Li  or  your  friend. 
dease.  I  know 
jnscience,  and  if 
n  the  right  side, 
ight   side  ?    Can 

for  the  sake  of 

ipen  string  when 
ke  on  the  riglit 
me. 


7hc  "  Srra/f/t  Clithr 


'>'.> 


Oal'hr.  Oh,  I  understand  it  now,  that's  the  reason  you 
soniclinics  Ilmvc  out  three  or  tour  hars,  of  course  it  is  a 
mi>take  in  one  sense,  hut  llicn  \  our  stopping  is  always  a 
move  in  the  right  direction. 

Da/Ion.  You  had  lielter  go  home  :  you  are  getting  dull  ; 
1  never  heard  such  elaborate  attempts  at  sarcasm. 


FOURTKKXTH  KVKXING. 

An    Allad;   on      Tnilli  rate    MiisicianSy  and    a 
Rhapsody  on   (irn/'ns  hy   C  yahhc. 

/7R.\nnK  and  Dalton  were  in  a  savage  mood  this 
\p  evening  and  made  fierce  onslaughts  on  the  whole 
race  of  tenth  rate  musicians,  who  sujiply  the  market  with 
"arrangements,"  variations,  and  so  forth.  The  vials  of 
their  wrath  were  drawn  on  the  devoted  heads  of  these 
poor  ])eople  l)y  an  unfortunate  remark  of  Doctor  Good- 
man's, to  the  elTect  that  the  numerous  and  ever  increas- 
ing ho.st  of  writers  of  music  was  an  indication  that  the 
talent  or  ability  to  write  pleasing  music  was  more  wide- 
spread in  our  day  than  ever. 

Crabbe.  Composers  are  of  three  kinds;  the  fools  who 
rush  in,  the  angels  who  fear  to  tread,  and  the  serene 
dwellers  on  Olympus. 

Dallon.     Severe,  sententious,  but  true  in  the  main. 


100 


The  ••  Scrahli  CIuIk" 


llu-:ii.     I  hopL'  lliciL-art!  Ill)  iDiiiposcrsamoii)^  us,  Icon 
fess  to  several  uiipiiljlislicd  allcmpts. 

Crahhf.     Your  iiKKksly  saves  you  from  the   first  class. 

Dr.  (ioodinan.  And  I  liope,  ^;ocs  with  ability  eiiou^^li 
to  entitle  you  to  enter  the  second  tia>>,  at  least. 

CraMe.  Prettily  said,  Doctor  ;  hut,  rciiKiuljer,  Ila/.el, 
happy  is  the  man  who  discovers  in  secret  that  he  is  not  a 
genius,  and  needs  not  to  have  the  fact  brayed  in  his  ears 
by  the  niaiiy-tliroated  jniblic. 

Parks.  I  tliink  it  is  \crv  unfair  to  lie  so  haul  on 
])e<i])k'  becatise  they  write  a  little,  and  lind  some  peopk' 
to  admire  their  coni])ositions. 

Cr.ibhe.     Compositions  !  ! 

Par/cs.  All  the  world  can't  be  expected  to  like  grand 
coni])ositions,  ami  I  think  the\'  have  a  ri,uht  to  have  the 
kind  ot"  music  ihcy  like. 

Hazel  Parks  has  evidently  l)ecn  a  sinner.  I  wondci 
which  of  Crabbe's    classes  he  ranks  himselfin. 

Crahbc.  Oh,  somewhere  between  the  ruNliers  and  the 
fearers,  probaldy  disowned  of  both. 

Dalton.  You  are  too  hard  on  him.  Parks  has  cer- 
tainly a  vein  of  melody,  he  has  never  ventured  beyond 
simple  ballads  and  soui^s,  but  a  daisy  is  as  perfect  in  its 
way  as  an  o.ik  ;  a  .song  then,  as  perfect  a  work  of  art  as  a 
symphony. 

Crabhc.  {stop!  Dalton,  Parks  will  hereafter  be — daisy 
like — irrepressible. 

Parks.  Crabbe  thinks  that  "because  he  is  virtuous  " 
nobody  should  have  "cakes  and  ale." 

Crabbe.  No  ;  cakes  and  ale  are  very  good  in  their  way, 
but  I  ])refer  nectar  and  ambrosia. 

Parks.  He  wishes  to  be  thought  of  kiu  to  those 
"  serene  dwellers  on  Olympus"  he  spoke  of  just  now. 

Dallon.     As  usual,  we  begin  by  legitimate   discu.ssion, 


;uii()ii};  us,  I  cDii- 

1  tlif  first  class. 
1  ability  cuoukIi 
t  Ica-l. 

iiiciuhir,  Hazel, 
t  that  lie  is  not  a 
aycil  in  his  ears 

lie    so    liavd    oil 
11(1   some    people 


?d   to  like  grand 
>;ht    to  have   the 

iiur.     I    wonder 
iselfin. 
nisJK'rs  and  the 

Parks  has  cer- 

iXMitured  I)eyoii<l 

is  perfect  in    its 

work  of  art  as  a 

reafter  be — daisy 

he  is  virtuous  " 

Md  in  their  way, 

r)f  kin   to   those 
of  just  now. 
uale   discussion, 


The  "  Snvtrfi  Cliihr 


loi 


and  end  in  persoualities.     This  is  the  Rouie  to  which  all 
our  roads  lead. 

Oabhc.  It  i>  not  niv  fault,  I  set  out  with  an  earnest 
jnirpose  to  <liscus>  the  tenth  rate  scribblers,  when  you  in- 
lerrupted  nie. 

Dr.  Goodman.     (Icntleiiieii,  do  k-t  Craobc  have  his  .sav 
I  am  anxious  to  hear  why  he  con-iemns  these  poor  pec.plc 
so  .severel\  . 

Crahbr.    I   will    make  some   allowance    for  ballad  and 
song  writers,  the   'vein  of  melody"  with  which   D.dlon 
•and  I,  a l.so,)  credited   Parks  often  exists  where  there  is 
neither  knowledKc  imr  cai.rJ.ility  to  a.ba.ice  to  anvtliiii« 
UKher.      I  will   spare,   also,  the   writers  of  dance  music  • 
bad  as  most  o|  u  is,  it  is  ,|uite  ;4oo,l  enough  for  the  pur- 
pose aiKl  the  people  it  is  wriiten  for  ;  but  oh  !  these  writer.s 
of   "tantaMes,"  '•  reveries,"  "nocturnes."   and  the  rest 
«'l  the   hddle-taddle  of  weak   melodv  supported    bv  two 
chords.     Strange  are  the  nianifest.itions  of  luimaii  vanity 
and  incapability  !     No  sooner  has  a  tyn,  learned  the  tonic 
and  dominaul  chords,  but  he  slraightwav  inllictsa  patient 
public  by  "compo.sing"   reveries  or  nocturnes,  or  .some 
such  drivel. 

If<nrl.  I  can  bear  witness,  when  I  find  a  pti])!!  with 
more  aptness  than  the  general  for  harmonv,  I  a.ii  often 
amazed  to  find  how  soon  they  know  more  than  1  do.  If 
I  .suggest  that  certain  progressions  might  be  better  they 
coolly  insist  that  they  prefer  them  as  they  are. 

Crabhc.  Ay.  They  find  that  the  rules  that  guided 
the  great  compo.sers  are  but  arbitrary  trannnels  on  their 
genius. 

Dalhm.  Yes  ;  but  these  scribblers  Crabbe  has  denounced 
are  as  angels  of  light  in  comparison  with  the  "arrangers  " 
the  variation  grinders,  the  "  lianscriptionists  "  whocouiit 
up  their  "  -u'orks"  to  opus  lo,™©. 


lo: 


The  "  Scratch  Club. 


Oabbc.  They  are  soinclhiiig  like,  but  not  as  good  as, 
the  playwrights  who  "adapt  "  novels  to  the  ;^tage. 

Parks.    Won't  you  except  such  writers  as  Lis/.t  and 

Thalberg^  ,      •    ,      i  i 

Crabbc.  No.  As  composers,  they  must  be  judged  Dy 
their  original  work  ;  not  l)y  their  musical  connnentaries 
on  other  men's  ideas. 

Dallon.  I  have  a  particular  enmity  for  those  men  who 
take  a  well-known  classical  piano  composition  and  tor- 
ment it  into  some  almost  impossible  display  of  their  own 
finger  dexterity,  as  Tausig  did  with  that  perfect  work, 
the  "Invitation  to  the  Dance,"  or  as  another— I  won't 
mention  his  name,  as  he  is  still  living,-did  with  a  waltz 
of  Chopin's. 

Crabbe.  The  greatest  atrocity  of  this  kind  I  have  as  yet 
heard  of  is  that  some  piano  prestidig'tator  has  improved 
Weber's  rondo,  "Mobile  Perpetuum,"  by  changing  the 
parts  from  one  hand  to  the  other  !  And  yet  these  are  the 
thnigs  a  discriminating  pulilic  applauds. 

Daltcn,.  Nor  must\\e  forget  to  include  in  our  denuncia- 
tion the  writers  of  pieces  "  for  the  left  hand  alone." 
Crabbc.  With  all  my  heart. 

Hazel.  Art  is  at  its  lowest  when  it  seeks  applause  for 
mere  technical  excellence,  or  astounding  tours  de  force. 

Crabbc.  Ay.  Hazel  is  the  man  to  say  a  thing  that 
everybody  knows  in  a  concise,  picturesque,  even  poetic 

way.  '  . 

Hazel.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  it,  as  you  are  was=t- 
ing  your  heavy  artillery  on  mere  sparrows. 

Dallon.  Don't  you  think  there  are  symptoms  of  a  re- 
action from  the  pyrotechnic  school?  I  think  it  has,  in 
fact,  reached  its  limit.  There  are  no  more  surprises  left 
for  virtuositv  ;  people  are  getting  tired  of  its  already  stale 
achievements ;    and  the  great  lights  of  muMc   are  be- 


t  not  as  good  as, 

0  the  stage. 

tc'is  as  Liszt  and 

list  be  judged  by 
ieal  conimentaries 

ir  those  men  who 
npositioii  and  tor- 
spla}-  of  their  own 
that  perfect  work, 
,  another — I  won't 
— did  with  a  waltz 

kind  I  have  as  yet 
.ator  has  improved 
'  by  changing  the 
id  yet  these  are  the 
Is. 

de  in  onr  dennncia- 
hand  alone." 

t  seeks  applause  for 
ng  tours  de  force, 
o  say  a  thing  that 
resque,  even  poetic 

>  it,  as  you  are  wast- 
rows. 

:  symptoms  of  a  re- 
I  think  it  has,  in 
J  more  surprises  left 
d  of  its  already  stale 
s  of  mu>ic    are  be- 


T/h-  "  Siinh/i  Clubr 


lo: 


nir  :^:^  !:r^"  ^^^^^"-^  ^'^--^-^  th^  py-.ch. 

na-.tl.  Yes.  I  suppose  there  are  more  people  study 
au^.  ll<.,  'iu.  .sonatas  u,  iieethoven  .„..  \ull"'^Z. 
Mendel.ssoiui  .s  "  Lieder  oluie  worte  "  tlian  ever 

Dalton.  Truly,  these  composers  are  "  crucified  all  day 
long,     on  grand,  square,  and  upright  pianos 

Lrabl.c    Just  think  of  it !     There  is  not  an  hour  in  the 
twenly-lonr  when  the  "Sonata  Pathetique  -  is  not  being 
played  son.ewhere.     As  the  sun  rises,  say  at  Hong  Kong' 
the  daughters  of  the  Knglish  residents  begin  their  daiK- 
practice.      As  the  sun   moves   westward,  the   pianos  in 
Australia  awake.     Still  further,  and  the  "  Sonata  Pathe- 
j.qi.e"    begins  in  Russia.     Then  Germany,  France,  and 
Kn.gland      take  up  the  wondrous  tale."     Still  westward 
and  a  thousand  pianos  in  our  haj.py  land  begin  to  twan- 
with  It,  from  New  Ivngland  to  tlie  Pacific.     Talk  of  mJ"^ 
tona's  ceaseless  drum-beat !     It  is  nothing  to  it      They 
say  that  in  ever>-  second  of  time  some  soul  enters  or  quits 
ih.s  vain  .show  we  call   "  life."     This  seems  a  wonderful 
lung  ;  but  It  IS  a  trifie  wlien  you  consider  that  all  nature 
has  conspired  to  bring  it  about.     But  when  von  think 
that  one  weak  man  has  thought  a  thought,  or'  written  a 
pure  of  music,  that  for  years  has  never  cea.sed  to  sound 
fnm,    an   ever.swelling   number  of  pianos  all    round    the 
world-I  tell  you  that  is  something  to  wonder  at     While 
we  sit  here  talking,  how  many  players  are  just  l.cginnine 
or  are  in  tne  middle  of,  or  have  just  finished  it!     How 
many  poor  girls  have  shed,  or  are  shedding,  tears  over  its 
diflicultics!      How   many    "  profes.sors ' '    are   daily   and 
hourly  moved  to  inward,  it  may  be.   1)ut   not  the  less 
wicked,   profanity  over   the   bungling   attempts   of   dull 
pnpi  s  to  master  it.     Genius  is  an  awful  responsibilitv 
Beetho^•en  s  gonius  is  directly  responsible  lor  this  ocean 


i 


A 


Vi 


104 


The  "  Sauitr/i   Club" 


of  unuttered  profanity.  I  wouldn't  like  to  think  at  my 
last  hour  that  I  had  written  anything  that  would  vex  the 
ears  of  Heaven  for  years  after  I  was  dead. 

Paries     Mnkc  "  •■-■  v  *'^' 

.■H'.  -••   :»L    A-_NOur  mind  easy,      mere  is  no  danger. 

Crabbc.  Oh,  poor  little  wit!  Mow  he  jumped  with 
glistening  eyes  at  the  chance,  and  whipt  out  liis  little 
sling. 

Dr.  Goodiitait.  I  would  like  to  know,  Crabbc,  how 
much  of  that  was  earnest,  how  much  fun?  That  is  a 
solemn  truth,  that  "Genius  is  a  great  responsibility." 
It  is  genius  that  rules  the  world  in  every  department, 
and  it  behooves  its  possessor  to  look  well  to  it  that  he  use 
it  aright. 

Crabbc.  It  is  possible  to  mis-employ  talent,  but  not 
genius.  The  man  is  master  of  his  talents,  1)ut  his  genius 
masters  him,  and  drives  him  whither  it  Vi'ill,  often  against 
his  inclination. 

Dal/nii.  I  tliink  "  repcctable  mediocrity"  l)ears  wider 
rule  than  genius.  Genius  is  apt  to  be  too  erratic  to  rule 
wisely. 

Dr.  Goodman.  It  may  be  that ' '  respectable  mediocrity' ' 
does  rule,  but  it  is  only  as  a  deputy  or  vice.  Every 
possession  we  have  in  art,  science,  or  governmrnt  has 
been  won  for  us  !)y  genius.  Tlie  masses  of  mankind  are 
moved  like  puppets  by  the  ideas  of  the  gifteil  few,  and 
are,  like  puppets,  luiccnscious  of  the  power  that  moves 
them. 

Crabbc.  In  other  words,  mediocrity,  respectable  and 
otherwise,  is  the  engine  with  cranks,  pistons,  and  wheels, 
all  nicely  adjusted,  but  dead  •and  still.  Genius  is  the 
steam  that  puts  them  in  motion.  I  can  carry  my  figure 
still  farther.  The  fire  that  gets  up  the  steam  is  the 
"environment"  of  the  genius.  Tlie  hou.sc  rent,  taxes, 
butcher's  bill,  or  what  not,  that  drives  him  to  work — for 


The  "  Scratch  Club: 


e  to  think  at  my 

at  would  vex  the 

(1. 

:  IS  no  danger. 

he  jumped  with 

ipt  out  liis  little 

•w,  Crahbe,  how 
fun?  That  is  a 
t  responsibility." 
very  dei>artment, 
1  to  it  that  he  use 

y  talent,  but  not 
its,  but  his  i^enius 
will,  often  against 

ity  "  l)ears  wider 
too  erratic  to  rule 

stable  mediocrity' ' 
or  vice.  Kvery 
■  goveriinimt  has 
.'S  of  mankind  are 
le  gifteil  few,  and 
power  that  moves 


I  OS 


your  true  genius  is  generally  lazy-this  is  what  I  meant 
a  while  ago,  when  I  said  genius  drove  its  possessor  a-ainst 
his  inclination.  '"^ 

Ila~i-I.   "It  is  ever  thus."     No  sooner  docs  the  talk 
take  a  .serious  turn  than  Cral.be,  like  Satan  in   Paradise 
tries  to  spoil  it. 

Parks.  Did  he  tempt  you  with  a  Crabbe  apple  ? 

Crabbc.  Parks,  the  only  excuse  for  a  j.un  is,  that  it  be 
a  propos.  Kschew  that  frame  of  mind  that  betrays  the 
•small  w.t  :  that  is,  a  spider-like  lying.in-w^ait  to  .seize 
every  poor  fly.  in  the  .shape  of  a  small  joke,  that  ofTers 
Itself. 

.  Parks.  You  crush  me  with  your  Jolinsonian  manner 
Are  you  the  only  one  of  us  that  is  entitled  to  be  funny? 

Lrahhc.  He  would  be  funny  !  Mi.sguided  vouth,  that 
IS  the  ambilion  of  an  "end  man,"  of  a  "circus  clown  " 
Wit  and  humor  are  never  funny.  Fun  is  the  diversion  of 
the  low,  the  vulgar,  the  ignorant. 

Parks.  You  needn't  pitcli  in  like  that.  I  only  used  the 
word  collo(iuial!y  ;   every  one  does. 

Crabbc.  Enough.     I  forgive  you  this  once. 

Ha-jcL  You'd  better  come  with  me  now,  Crabbe,  and 
walk  off  your  fit  of  virtuous  indignation. 

Parks.  Yes  ;  take  a  fun  ambulation. 

Crabbc  {ct  omncs).  Qh.^h.iiXxox. 


I. 


n 


|! 


,  respectable  and 
stons,  and  wheels, 
11.  Genius  is  the 
\\\  carry  my  figure 
the  steam  is  the 
house  rent,  taxes, 
^  him  to  work — for 


FIFTEl'NTH    I<VKNINO. 
Parks    .Islonis/ics    I  lie    Club    uu'l/t    a    Satiriial 

CVER  since  our  "Scratch"  has  been  holding  its 
weekly  mec'tini;s,  Parks  has  been  breatliing  vague 
threateiiings  ofim  intention  to  "  get  even  "  with  the  other 
niemlx  rs,  by  way  of  revenge,  for  the  many  direct  and  in- 
direct siiul)S  and  flings  of  one  kind  and  another  that  they 
have  put  ujion  him.  They  had  so  often  twitted  him  with 
his  unfulilUed  threat,  and  he  hadsooften  said  "  wait  and 
you  will  see"  that  they  began  to  fear  that  the  winter 
would  pass  away  without  bringing  on  them  his  promised 
castigation. 

They  were  therefore  quite  taken  by  surprise  this  even- 
ing, when  he  made  his  appearance  with  a  small  roll  of 
manuscript,  neatly  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon.  So  great 
was  their  curiosity,  they  could  hardly  wait  until  the 
"  Scratch  "  was  over  to  hear  its  contents.  All  through 
the  playing,  Parks  wore  a  smile  of  conscious  triumph,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "Won't  I  astonish  these  fellows!"  At 
last  the  wished-for  moment  came,  the  club  settled  itself 
to  listen,  and  Parks,  after  some  feigning  of  reluctance, 
cleared  his  throat  and  read  as  follows  : 

O,  muse  !  divitiest  of  the  tuneful  niue, 

The  first  soprano  in  the  choir  divine, 

That  under  leadership  of  great  Apollo 

Beat  all  the  choruses  of  mortals  hollow. 

Aid  me,  Polymuia,  if  that  be  thy  name, 

Or  thou,  Calliope,  fan  to  ardent  flame, 
(  106  J 


NO. 

'/    a    Satirical 


jcn  holding  its 
breathing  vague 
' '  with  the  other 
iiy  direct  and  in- 
iiother  that  they 
twitted  him  witli 
said  "  wait  and 
that  the  winter 
em  his  promised 

rprise  this  even- 
a  small  roll  of 
l)bon.  So  great 
'  wait  until  the 
ts.  All  through 
ious  triumph,  as 
;e  fellows!"  At 
ub  settled  itself 
ug  of  reluctance, 


The  ''Scratch  CliiL" 

The  glowiiif?  tho'ts  iiiiiirisoiicd  in  mv  lireast 

Thai  struggle  fierce,  as  they  would  rend  my  vest. 

Fain  would  I  sing— but  not  of  love  or  arms, 

Of  deeds  of  heroes,  or  of  heauty's  charms. 

Far  other  task  :ny  untried  pen  would  jnove. 

Might  it  but  get  in  th'  unaccustomed  groove. 

Tile  glories  of  the  "Scratch  "  would  be  my  theme, 

A  nobler  far  than  aught  of  these  I  deem. 

Then  help  me,  tnuse,  with  nyntax,  words  and  rhyme, 

Nor  tax  with  sin  my  rash  attempt  to  climb. 

Who  that  hath  heard  hath  ever  failed  to  mark 

The  look  of  high  resolve,  fixed  firm  and  dark, 

That  rests  upon  each  face,  when  bow  in  hand. 

First  fiddle  raps  upon  his  music  stand. 

And,  while  with  anxious  glance  he  cons  his  score, 

The  signal  gives— one,  two,  three,  four. 

Then  from  the  quivering  strings  what  sounds  arise 

As  each-his  heart  aflame— with  vigor  plies 

The  grating  horsehair  o'er  the  catgut  taut 

And  wakes  the  spirit  of  the  defunct  cat 

That  parted  loth  with  all  her  nine-fold  life 

And  gave  her  entrails  to  the  cruel  knife, 

And  wist  not  that  her  mews  would  live  agaiu 

To  serve  the  muse  of  music  loving  men. 

A  Brisk  Allegro  first  their  mettle  trie.s, 

Whose  fugue-like  theme  forever  faster  flies. 

First  fiddle  boldly  dashes  at  the  strain 

And  strains  each  nerve  the  tempo  to  maintain. 

His  courage  Aiils  not,  tho'  his  lingers  tr.'p. 

When  he  a  sixth  position  high  would  grip. 

He  "scamps"  the  phrase,  how,  each  muMcian  knows 

And  comes  in  solid  on  the  final  close. 

Now  to  the  "ba.ss"  the  wandering  theme  descends 

And  to  th'  attack,  the  'Cello  anxious  bends, 

Two  notes  iu  tune  he  strikes  upon  the  oi)en  strings, 

Then  to  the  wind  both  time  and  tune  he  flings, 

As  springing  at  a  passage  with  his  thumb, 

He  draws  a  wail  that  strikes  his  hearers  duml>. 

And  makes  them  even  wish  that  they  were  deaf 

As  lie  mistakes  a  tenor  for  a  treble  clef, 


107 


n 

' ! 


J' 


H 


io8 


The  "Scratch  Cliib." 


Aiioii,  with  tune  recovered  on  harmonic  A, 

By  easy  stages,  down  he  v.orks  his  way 

I'ntil  lie  f,'ains  the  port  where  he  would  be 

In  safety  landed  on  the  open  C. 

lUit  oh  !   what  mortal  pen  can  e'er  aspire, 

I'ntauKht,  unaided  hy  celestial  fire, 

To  paint  the  consternation  deep  that  jjrows 

And  in  each  luckless  hearer's  bosom  glows, 

When,  with  a^mile  inquisitors  might  wear, 

Viola  takes  his  turn  to  torment  th'  air. 

With  gestures  wilil,  and  elbow,  shoulder  high, 

Willi  siiffeiifd  wrist,  resolved  to  do  or  die. 

His  bow-arm  plunges  madly  to  and  fro. 

His  right  hand  knows  not  what  his  left  would  do. 

With  lofty  scorn  expression  marks  he  slights. 

Thinks  "time  was  made  for  slaves  "  and  so  delights 

!,:'.;^  .,;.!"<(!  professors  of  the  manly  art 

To  knuckle  "  out  of  time  "  his  suffering  part. 

Anon,  encountering  with  double  stops 

lie  coolly  from  the  maimed  passage  lops, 

One  of  the  twain  and  leaves  the  empty  chord 

To  mourn  the  absence  of  its  major  third. 

Confusion  worse  confounded  follows  fast 

As  each  one  str'.yesto  be,  at  leas',  not  last, 

A  closing  organ  point  of  sixteen  bars 

Makes  'Cello,  thankful,  bless  his  lucky  stars 

That— let  the  others  wrangle  as  they  may. 

He  sure  was  right,  no  matter  what  they  say. 

First  fiddle  beats  the  time  with  anxious  face, 

Viola  beats  him  in  the  flying  race; 

All  beat  Beethoven  out  of  form  and  shape 

And  force  the  spirit  of  his  muse  t'  escape. 

But  list  1  how  second  fiddle  bears  his  part 

In  this  attempt  to  storm  the  temple  of  art. 

With  dainty  steps  he  foots  his  dubious  way 

Unhindered  by  these  erring  sons  of  clay. 

His  modest  merit  courts  not  sounding  praise, 

Rut  like  the  violet,  hides  from  public  gaze. 

His  be  the  meed— altho'   'tis  all  unsought. 

That  in  the  "Scratch  '  he  is  the  one  bright  spot. 


cA. 
I  be 

re. 

rows 

lows, 
ear, 

er  hip;h, 
(lie, 

ft  would  do, 
slights, 

tid  so  deligUU 
rt 
ig  part. 

>ps, 
r  chord 

Td. 
ISt 

last, 

;y  stars 
may, 
ey  say. 
us  face, 

lape 
ape. 
art 
fart. 
IS  way 

ay. 

;  praise, 
gaze, 
uglit, 
bright  spot. 


The  "  Si-nitch  Cliih''  iq,^ 

These  are  thy  glories,  the.se  the  joys,  ()  "  Scratch," 
From  thy  pursuit  with  fearful  joy  we  snatch. 
Hut  my  tired  pen,  unecjual  to  tlie  strain. 
Must  leave  unsung  the  pleasures  tiiat  remain; 
The'  greater  e'en  than  the.se  my  lines  disclose. 
For  inspiration's  stream  no  longer  (hnvs. 

Forgive,  O  muse  !  these  uncouth  words  and  rough, 

Nor  hlanie  a  mortal  tliat  he  found  it  tough 

To  frame  in  fitting  lines  and  sounding  rhyme 

A  theme  so  vast,  transcendant,  and  sublime. 

My  powers  are  weak  and  jmor,  and  well  you  know  it. 

So  choose  another  time,  another  poet, 

Cmbbc.  The  last  two  lines  are  remarkal)le  for  heiiij; 
the  only    ones  with  any   .sense  in  the  whole  riL,Mnaroie. 

Hazel.  Its  a  scandalous  lil)el.  He's  oflener  wrong  than 
any  of  tis. 

Dalian.  You  liave  overshot  tlie  mark.  Your  estimate 
of  jourself  isthe  only  piece  of  unexaggerated  satire  in  it. 

Ha=el.  He  "the  only  hriglit  .spot  "—we  niiglit  all  ex- 
claim with  Lady  Macbeth— ••  out,  da.nned  spot." 

Crabbe.  How  anyone  can  be  a  ".spot"  in  a, scratch,  I 
don't  know,  unless  he's  a  spot  to  be  scratched,  like  a  flea- 
bite. 

Dalian.  Oh,  he's  not  the  first  scribbler  that  the  e.xigen- 
cies  of  rhyme  have  compelled  to  talk  nonsense. 

Parks.  Pitch  in.  gentlemen;  the  more  you  <.V\  the 
surer  I  feel  that  I  have  hit  you. 

Dalian.  Ifa  man  flings  a  .spadeful  of  mud  into  a  crowd 
It  IS  no  merit  to  him  that  he  hits  .some  one. 

Dr.  Goodman,  {anxiotts  la  cliani:;e  Ihe  subjeet  and  realore 
harmony.)  How  does  it  happen,  Dalton,  that  we  have 
never  had  a  lecture  or  essay,  or  even  a  story  from  you  ? 

Dallon.  Ifever  you  should,  I  p.omise  it  will  be  more 
uiiproving  than  some  of  the  coutributious  we  have  had  to 
listen  to. 


li 


}■• 


I  lO 


The  "Smitcli  Club:' 


Ifa-il.  Yes,  ami  dry  as  vSaliara. 

Parks.  Lcctiircs  I     \Vf  have  ha.l  nolhiiiK  else  from  liim 
as  long  as  I  can  remcmhur,  and  who  can  imagiMc  Dalluu 

lellim;  a  story. 

Dniton.  Just  sec!  what  insniTerahlc  airs  he  puts  on,  as 
if  he  had  done  a  wonderfnl  thing  in  writing   that  silly 

trash. 

Oabhf.  Can  yon  wonder?  Remember,  Parks  is  the 
only  one  ol"  us  who,  like  Silas  Wegg.  has  "  dropt  into 

poctrv." 

//a:<l.   "  Dropt  tlito poetry,"  indeed  !     Floundered  into 

doggerel. 

Dr.  Coodman.  Oh,  dear,  T  fear  \ou  have  soured  all  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  in  our  friends  with  your  unlucky 
pa.s(iuinade.  Why  is  it  that  men  who  play  fiddles  are  so 
touchy  about  remarks  as  U)  the  way  they  do  it? 

Crabbr.  "  I.et  the  galled  jade  wince,  my  withers  arc 
unwrung."  Dallon,  we  demand  a  something  from  you 
at  our  next  meeting.  We  care  not  if  you  exceed  the 
satiric  brilliancy  of  Parks. 

Dallon.  Agreed  ;  and  it  won't  be  a  lecture. 

Dr,  Goo,iiuan.  For  one,  I  feel  sure  it  will  be  interesting 
whatever  form  it  takes. 

Ha~cl.  i*-  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  people  to  display 
liowers  they  were  never  suspected  of  possessing.  Dalton 
may  tell  a  better  story  than  an\-  of  us. 

Crabbr.  Are  we  going  to  wind  up  with  a  love  feast  ? 
"  Claw  me  and  I'll  claw  thee." 

/);-.  (nwhiian.  Hush  !     Don't  try  to  spoil  everything. 

Dal  toil.  I  have  a  very  curious  manuscript  in  my  posses- 
sion, a  sort  of  autobiographical  sketch.  I  will  read  it  at 
one  of  our  meetings.     I  am  sure  it  will  interest  you. 


ill};  e'.sf  from  liiiu 
iuiagiMc  Dallou 

lirslie  puts  on,  as 
vritiiiK   that  silly 

)cr,  Parks   is   the 
has  "  flropt  into 

I'loundered  into 

avc  soured  all  the 
vith  your  unlucky 
[)lay  fiddles  are  so 
;y  do  it? 

•,  my  withers  are 
iiethinj?  from  you 
f  you  exceed  the 

.'cture. 

will  be  interesting 

•  people  to  display 
ossessing.     Dalton 

vith  a  love  feast? 

spoil  everything, 
script  in  my  posses- 
.     I  will  read  it  ot 
1  interest  you. 


I 


vSIXTEENTH  KVENINO. 

Mr.  Dullycr  and  Parks'  Friend,  Fred,  Air  their 

V^icws. 

CWO  strangers  were  present  at  the  meeting  this  eve- 
ning. Mr.  ]Uillycr,  vulgar,  and  rich  through 
transactions  in  wheat  and  pork,  had  a  very  high  opinion 
of  his  taste  in  all  matters  connected  with  art,  esjx-ci- 
ally  with  music.  This  opinion  was  not  hampered  by 
the  least  tincture  of  knowledge.  He  had  just  returned 
from  his  first  trip  to  ICurope,  and  was  convinced  that  he 
was  thereby  (pialified  to  speak  with  un(iuestionable 
authority  on  all  points  connected  with  music.  He  there- 
fore "laid  down  the  law"  with  that  exasperating  .self- 
satisfied  arrogance  that  so  often  accompanies  the  total 
lack  of  knowledge.  He  gained  admittance  by  forcing 
himself  on  Hazel,  to  his  intense-  disgust.  Mr.  RullycT 
occasionally  condescends  to  patronize  the  church  "  'licli 
Hazel  is  the  organist.  He  invited  himself  into  t.  hoir 
for  the  express  purpose  of  teaching  Hazel  how  to  play  the 
organ. 

Parks  brought  a  friend  with  him,  a  j-outh  with  a  poetic 
eye  and  long  hair.  We  failed  to  catch  his  name  when 
Parks  introduced  him,  l)ut  were  satisfied  with  the  hws. 
This  youth  was  of  the  intensely  testhetic  school.  His  ideal 
of  the  musician  was  drawn  from  "Charles  Auchester." 
He,  too,  was  totally  ignorant  of  music,  but  made  up  for 

(  HI  ) 


1^ 


li 


112 


Tlif  "  Scratch  Clu/>." 


it  by  his  familiarity  with  the  cant  of  the  "Auchester" 
school  of  (hivelkis. 

TliL-se  two  gentlemen  famished  excellent  entertainment 
to  the  club,  who  were  alternately  amused  and  exasperated 
with  them.  The  last  piece  played  was  the  C  minor  (piar- 
tette  of  Heethoven  Hardly  had  they  finished  than  the 
gnsliinj;  youth  spake  as  follows  : 

Youth.  What  an  intensityofspiritnal  yearning  after  the 
infinite  is  there  in  Ik-ethoveii  !  vSodillerent  from  the  calm 
empyrean  atmosphere  of  Mozart,  who  exhibits  a  soul  that 
has  ol)tained  the  mastery  over  the  (inestionings  that  vex 
connnon  men,  and  has  reached  the  serene,  self-poised  calm 
of  a  lofty  spirit  that  has  overcome  the  baser  things  of 
life.  Heethoven  is  like  a  strong,  imprisoned  spirit  strug- 
gling towards  the  light,  lonely  and  sad.  his  mighty 
pinions  ever  and  anon  beaten  down  by  storms  of  passion, 
yet  ever  remounting  with  dauntless  courage  to  soar 
towards  the  heaven  he  sees  beckoning  him  npward,  ever 
upward. 

Crabhe.  What  a  pity  it  seems  that  great  men  do  not  out- 
live their  commentators.  It  would  be  .so  pleasant  for  them 
to  know  what  their  motives  were  for  what  they  did  and 
how  they  did  it.  We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  the  com- 
mentators. It  is  so  pleasant  to  know  that  great  works 
were  produced  as  the  result  of  ".soul  conflicts"  of 
•'strivings  after  the  unattainable,"  and  so  on,  never  from 
.such  sordid  considerations  as  tht  desire  of  profit,  or  the 
love  of  fame,  or  the  jealousy  of  rivals. 

Youth.  vShame  !  Would  you  destroy  the  noblest  aspira- 
tion of  our  nature,  bring  down  the  lofty  struggles  of 
genius  to  the  level  of  vulgar  trade  or  equally  vulgar  love 
of  fame?  Oh,  no!  Genius  works  in  a  world  apart,  is 
untouched  by  the  base  passions  of  this  earth. 

Crabbc.  Yes,     Raphael  and  Angelo  were  bosom  friends. 


e  "Auchestcr" 

t  entertainmotit 
xtul  exasperated 

L'  C  minor  iniar- 
lished  than  the 

:arnin^  after  the 
It  from  the  oahn 
ibils  a  soul  that 
juiiigs  that  vex 
self- poised  calm 
)aser  thiiij^s  of 
led  spirit  slnig- 
:id.  his  mighty 
)nns  of  passion, 
3iirage  to  soar 
lu  upward,  ever 

;  men  do  not  out- 
)leasant  for  them 
at  they  did  and 
tude  to  the  corn- 
hat  great  works 
1    conflicts"     of 

0  on,  never  from 
of  profit,  or  the 

le  noblest  aspira- 
ifty  struggles  of 
lally  vulgar  love 

1  world  apart,  is 
irth. 

re  bosom  friends, 


Thv"Saatih  CIiiIk" 


".^ 


Hamlel  and  Ihiononcini,  Cluck  aii.I  Piccini,  Mozart  and 
Saheri.  JJeelhovei.  and  llay.iii.  I  n^cd  not  extend  the 
list. 

Afr  liiillycr  (uho  sat  /isln,in,r  to  this  convenation  uilh 
wnii;/,:t  n>//>c>t.;>/,r  ,n„t aiiia :rnin,t,  now brokr  out )    What's 
the  u.eof  ail  that  big  talk  ;  sounds  like  two  imospapers 
p.tchm-    into  each  other.      I've  been  wailing  a  chance  t.. 
give  you  my  opinion  on  .several  things.     Its  no  use  talk- 
ing about  music  nnl^.ss  you  ve  been  to  Ivurope  as  I  have 
and  heanl   all  tin;  best  things  going  there.      If  von  want 
to   hear  what   real   music   .sounds    like,   just   von  go   t.. 
\  leiin.-i  and  hear  "  Strosses  orchcster  "   plav.      I  tell  yon 
them  fellows   know  how  to  do  it.     Don't  talk  to  me  of 
y.)ur  ].okey  -luartettes,  four  fellows  scraping  awav  without 
any  toon.     I've  been  nearly  a.sleep  all  evening.   '  (live  me 
something  lively.     I  heard  a  polka  in  Paris.-every  now 
and  then,  pop,  went  a  champagne  cork  as  natural  as  life 
I  went  everywhere  and  heard  everything.     I  can  tell  the 
minute  I  hear  a  thing  whether  it's  good.     A  fellow  witli 
a  good  ear  .lon't  need  to  know  anything  about  mu.sic  to 
tell  that. 

O-abbc  You're  right.  Sufficiency  of  car  supplies  the 
lack  ol  knowledge  in  iiiore  things  than  music 

Bullyn:  Of  course  it  does.  I  knew  you'd  agree  with 
me.  It  you  fellows  would  take  my  advice,  you'd  get 
•some  of  tho.se  arrangements  of  good  "  toons  "  tliev  pi  ,v 
over  there.  Von  could  get  lots  of  people  to  come  and 
hear  you  without  their  getting  sleep\  neither.  I  tell  you 
what,  Hazel,  you  must  get  some  of  them  thiiig.s  and  pl-,v 
them  on  the  organ.  I  like  to  hear  something  that'll  make 
the  people  go  marching  out  of  church,  'liven  them  up  a 
bit  after  the  sermon. 

Cmbtw.  An  antidote,  as  it  were,  to  the  .serious  part  of 
the  service. 


I: 


\i 


114 


The  "  ScraUli  Club." 


liuUvcr.  Just  so.  Tlic-m  preachers  get  a  talking  about 
dying  atul  all  sorts  of  IhiiiKS  that  n\akca  Rllow  foci  bha-, 
jiu"  a  li^ht  lively  picrc  on  the  organ  after  makes  'eiu  feci 
all  right  again,  you  know. 

Dr.  iioodnian.  But,  my  dear  sir,  do  you  think  it  is  well 
to  try  t(»  efface  auy  serious  impression  that  may  have  been 
produeed  ? 

liiilhrr.  You're  a  preacher,  and,  of  course,  you'll  take 
their  part.     iCverythiiig  that's  pleasant  is  wrong. 

[/;.-.  (iooihnaii  /><ircir/i/,ir  the  kimi  of  a  man  hf  luis  io  ileal 
uitli,  tcilk  a  s/i;li,/o>/>cars  to  ans'urr] 

OvMr.  Good,  lUdlyer.  I  do  like  a  gt)od  argument 
You  have  shut  up  the  doctor.  That's  a  good  idea— to 
make  the  organi.st  a  counterpoise  to  the  preacher.  It 
stiuuilates  the  preacher  to  more  strenuous  efforts,  it  re- 
presses any  tendency  to  vanity  he  may  have;  when, 
thinking  he  has  been  more  than  usually  impressive,  he 
remend)ers  that  the  organist  in  five  minutes  can  undo  the 
effect  it  took  him  an  hour  to  produce. 

J'arAs  {aside).   I   never  can  make  out  what  Crabbe  is 
driving  at. 

Jhdlyer  Yes,  sir  ;  you  are  one  of  the  most  sensible 
men  I  ever  met.  Come  and  see  me  scmietime.  I  like 
sensible  men,  even  if  they  are  musicians.  Hang  scientific 
nui.sic,  I  -ay  ;  let  ns  have  music  jK'ople  like,  whether  it  is 
in  church  or  out.  Hazel,  my  boy,  if  you'd  take  my 
advice  you'd  get  your  jieople  to  get  some  A,  i,  singers  in 
your  choir,  and  you'd  arrange  some  of  them  things  I've 
been  telling  you  of  for  anthems.  I  tell  you  wliat  !  stock 
in  your  church  would  soon  go  up.  Just  you  think  over 
what  I'm  telling  you.  I'll  come  in  your  choir  again  soon 
and  give  you  soiue  fresh  ideas.  I  must  bid  you  fellows 
good-night  now.     [/i.i/7.] 

Dalloii.   Well,    Doctor,  can   you  wonder  that  church 


t  a  talking  about 
,  ffllow  foel  l)lm-, 
r  inakLS   c'lu  feci 

u  think  it  is  well 
at  may  have  betu 

:nirsc,  you'll  take 

is  wrong. 

///(/;/  //(•  /itis  lo  deal 

good  arguiniMit 
s  a  good  idea — to 
the  preacher.  It 
ons  efforts,  it  re- 
lay have  ;  when, 
illy  impressive,  he 
lules  ean  undo  the 

It  what  Crabbe  is 

the  most  sensible 
sometime.  I  like 
s.  Hang  scientific 
:  like,  whether  it  is 
if  you'd  take  my 
me  A,  I,  singers  in 
f  them  things  I've 
11  you  what  !  stock 
list  you  think  over 
lur  choir  again  soon 
ist  bid  you  fellows 

onder  that  church 


f! 


'J/ii  "  Sifti/,//  C/ud." 


H5 


music  has  fallen  t.,  s.,  I.nv  a  standard  when  such  nun 
have  the  power,  which  Ihev  loo  ofUn  have,  to  dictate  to 
both  minister  and  organist .'' 

/h.  GooJmvi.  1  am  afraid  it  is  a  svmptoni  that  some 
things  of  more  moment  than  tlie  nuisie  are  at  a  low  ebb 
in  the  churches. 

)■<'/////.  The  highest,  truest  expression  of  religi..n  is  the 
love  of  the  Heantiful.  Art  is  the  expression  ju  ..ntward 
.symbols  of  tlR.  iJnuuiful.  Therefore,  true  worship  d^. 
man.ls  that  all  that  is  worthiest  in  art  should  combitK-  to 
elevate  and  purify  the  .soul.  Architecture,  p.iinting 
poetry,  sculpture,  nmsic-these  make  thv  fitting  temple.' 
The  soul  IS  subdued  to  its  pn.pi,  attitude  oidv  when 
aloue,  though  surrounded  by  cn.wds,  it  kneels  in  some 
dim,  vast  cathedral,  adorned  with  the  pure  emanations 
of  the  genius  of  architect,  sculpt<.r,  .and  painter,  and 
h.stens  with  holy  awe  to  the  soicnui  chant  of  n.bcd 
chori.sters,  while  the  m.ijeslic  roll  of  the  organ,  in  puls- 
ing cadence,  fills  the  vast  space  fnmi  marble  Hoor  to  lofty, 
fretted  roof  with  waves  of  sound  that  float  the  rapt  soul 
to  heaven. 

Dr.  Goodman  {aside  h  Oabhc).  "And  he  took  a  little 
child  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  said,  '  K.xcept 
ye  be  as  this  child  ye  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  " 

Crabhe.  Ah,  Doctor,  how  one  .such  saying  punctures  all 
the  va.st  wind-bags  blown  l)y  these  worshii)persof  the  Ideal 
or  IJeautiful  to  rai.se  men  by  balloon  prjwer  to  heaven. 
Hazel.  What  are  you  two  whisi)ering  togellicr  i" 
Crabbe.  Oh,  nothing  !     The  elevating  and  illuminating 
power  of  gas. 

J\uks.  What  has  that  to  do  with  what  hVed  is  saying? 
Crabbe.  His  mention  of  dim  c.-ithedrals  suggested  it. 
Crabbe  and   the  Doctor  smiled  together,  to  the  others' 
mystification,  and  the  party  broke  nj). 


SEVENTEENTH  EVENING. 


Dal  ton  Reads  a  Shaiiire  Story 


'  TT  CCORDING  to  promise, 


Dalton  said,  "  I  will  read 
to  you  the  manuscript  of  which  I  spoke  at  our  last 
meeting  but  one.  It  is,  as  you  see,  somewhat  volumin- 
ous ;  but  the  writing  is  large  and  straggling,  so  it  will 
not  take  very  long  to  read  it.  It  l)ears  this  strange  title  : 
'The  Confession  of  a  Lost  Artist,'  and  is  as  follows  :— 

"Who  reads  this  record  of  a  lost,  despairing  soul,  let 
him  take  warning  lest,  if  dowered  with  Heaven's  best 
gift,  Genius,  he  despise  it,  and — proving  unfaithful  to  the 
sacred   trust— sell,    for   gold    or   honors,    his   birthright. 
This  (lid  I.    Once  I  was  hajipy.     My  life  was  bright  with 
lofty  hopes   and   a   pure   ambition  ;  the  aml^ition  of  an 
arti.stwho  loved  his  a.      is  his  life  thrilled  through  my 
soul,  nerving  me  to  ever  loftier  efforts.     But  now,  hope- 
less, pri.soned,  in  chains,   I  sit   alone,  and  wait  in  dull 
patience  and   black  despair,    while  these  awful  granite 
walls  that  will  soon  close  around  me  are  built  ever  higher, 
higher,  and  nearer,  nearer,  by  invisible  hands.     Higher, 
higher,  closer,  closer,  the  cold  black  stones,  as  though 
alive  and  eager  to  crush  out  my  life  into  nothingness,  are 
growing.      Oh,   that   they  would  come   quicker,  that    I 
might  find  oblivion  under  their  mountain  masses  !    I  first 
became  conscious  of  existence  in  the  quaint  old  city  of 
Nuremburg.     A  dreaming  child,  bereft  of  both  parents, 
and   left  to  the  care,  or  rather  the  neglect,  of  an  aunt 
already  overburdened  with  a  numerous  family,  my  time 
was  spent  in  wandering  through  the  (juiet  old  streets, 
where  the  houses,  growing  closer  as  they  rose,  until  they 
(ii6) 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


117 


Stoy. 

aid,  "  I  will  read 
spoke  at  our  last 
newhat  voluniin- 
ggliiig,  so  it  will 
his  strange  title  : 
s  as  follows  : — 

spairing  soul,  let 
li  Heaven's  best 

unfaithful  to  the 
,  his  birthright. 
t  was  bright  with 
;  anil^itiou  of  an 
illed  through  my 
But  now,  liope- 
and  wait  in  dull 
•se  awful  granite 
built  ever  higher, 

hands.  Higher, 
tones,  as  though 
)  nothingness,  are 
;  quicker,  that  I 
n  masses  !  I  first 
[uaint  old  city  of 
;  of  both  parents, 
iglect,  of  an  aunt 
s  family,  my  time 
([uiet  old  streets, 
;y  rose,  until  they 


nearly  metoverliead,  seemed  to  be  wliispcring  to  each  other 
mysterious  secrets  ab.mt  the  dead  an.l  g.nie  generations 
that  had  lived   in  them.     ICverv  fantastic  gable  had  its 
own   history  l„r  me.     Tlie  grinning  mon.sters  carved  on 
the  church  ])orches  were  my  familiar  friends.     I  i)eopled 
the  old  buildings  with  a  world  of  niv  own,  until  dream- 
and  became  my  natural  home,  and" the  real  world  was 
barely  tolerated  as  a  hated  necessity.     No  uionght  was 
taken  for  my  education  :  but  I  contrived.  Heaven  knows 
how,  to  learn  to  read,  and  found  fresh  fuel  for  mv  dreams 
111  the  wend  legends  that  clustered  round  everv  tower  and 
tottering  ruin  in  the  old  town. '  Thus  passed  mv  life  until 
1  was  about  fifteen    years  old,  when    mv  aunt,   with  a 
.sudden  access  of  religious  zeal,  determined  that   I  must 
be  catechi.sed  and  confirmed  according  to  the  Lutheran 
custom      After  many  weary  hours  of  stud\-  and  wearier 
hours  of  questioning  by  the  zealous  young  divine  whose 
dutyit  was  to  prepare  the  children,  I  was  pronounced 
ready  for  this,  to  me,  unmeaning  rite.     I  lia<l  never  been 
111  a  church,  and  went  thither,  when  the  dav  of  confirma- 
tion arrived,  111  comi)any  with  a  large  nu'mber  of  bovs 
and   girls   who   were    about   my   own    age,    unwilliiiglv 
enough,  little  knowing  what  awaited  me.     The  churcii 
where   tins   ceremony  took   place   possessed  one   of  the 
most    iamous   organs  in    all    Germanv,  and   an   equally 
famous  organist.     Like  a  sudden  awakening  from  death 
to   life,    or  rather   like   the    realization    of   my   wildest 
dreams,  the  p(«ver  of  music   seized  on  me  as   the  sul)- 
hme  harmonies  now  rose  and  rushed  over  me  in  billows 
of  sound,  now  gently  and  ever  more  softly,  like  music 
of  retreating  angels,  seemed  to  draw  me  after  them  up 
to  heaven.     My  destiny  was  fixed.     I   must  be   an   or- 
ganist.    W  ith  a  courage  born  of  my  strange  exaltation 
I  Aveiit  to  the  organist  at   the   close   of  the  service    of 
which    I  remember  nothing,   and  with  a  child's  direct- 
ness said—'  Teach  me  to  play  like  you.  '     The  go.xl  old 
man  smiled  gently,  patted  mv  head,  and  said   with   par- 
donable vanity  :    '  I  nn'glit  teach  you  to  plav,  but  to  play 
as  I  do— that  IS  another  thing.'     Then,  ai)pareiitly  ob- 
serving,for  the  first  time, my  rapt,  earnest  look,  he  added 
more  seriously  :  •'  My  dear  child,  you  look  as  if  you  had 


;  i 


I  i 


Ii8 


The  "  Scratch  Club.' 


seen  an  angel.     What  is  the  matter  with  yon?    I  tried  to 
tell  him,  stammered  ont  some  iiieohereiit  words,  when  my 
overstrained  nerves  gave  way,  ami  I  l)nrst  into  a   violent 
lit  of  weeping.      He   tried  to  soothe  me,    and    soon  sne- 
c-eeded   hV   ^lying  that  if  .1   wonld  come  to   him  every 
morning  he  wonld  teacli  me  to  play,  as  he  telt  snrc.  lit 
conld  ii.ake  something  ont  of  me.      That  my  progress 
was  rapid,   I  need  not  say.     My  kind  old   master  soon 
,rrcw   proud   of  me,  and  wonld   often  say    to   acuninng 
friends:    '  Here  is  the  lad  to  take  my   place  when   these 
old  fingers  have  lost  their  cunning.'     My  tame  soon   t)e- 
gan   to  spread,   and  by   the   time   I    was  twenty,  I    was 
h)oked  on  as  one  of  the  most  promising  organists  in  Ger- 
manv.     I  was  now  regularly  engaged  as  assistant  organ- 
ist   '  Mv  dear  old  friend  was  often  ailing  and  I  then  took 
his  place      At  last,  full  of  years  and  hoiujrshe  died,  hless- 
imr  ine  with  his  latest  breath  ;  charging  me  earnestly   to 
be  true  to  mv  art,  to  reverence  the  gifts  I  possessed    as 
entrusted  to  me  by  Heaven,  to  be  .sed  for  the  glory  of  the 
iriver      I  w  is  now  formallv  installed  in  his  place,     btil 
mv  fame  grew.   People  came  from  distant  cities  and  heard 
me  wonderinglv,  prophesying  that  yctanotlrer  was  to  lie 
added  to  Germaiiv'slong  roll  of  rulers  in  tlie  realms  ot 
sound      Thus,  day   by  dav,  my  life  unfolded,  ever  more 
and  more  bright,  when  the  blight  fell.     It  was  my  cn.s- 
tom  to  give,  on  two  evenings  of  the  week,   a  concert  ot 
orsran  iiiusic.     It  chanced  that  I  observed  at  one  of  these 
concerts, -ah!  how  should   I  describe  her  !-a  poem  in 
motion   music  become  a  visible  presence.     The  l!,pipliaiiy 
of  the  purest  ideal-Anialia-0,  Anialia  !     Joy   toucning 
heaven,  and  woe  deep  as  hell,  are  in  that  name  for  me. 
The  walls  are  closing— it  is  dark— dark      I  can  go  no  tar- 
ther  The  dull  calm  has  returned, I  must  finish  my 

dreadful  task.  .  .  .  vShe  was  the  only  daughter  of  the  old 
Count  Oscar  of  Armerland.  This  proud  but  poor  noble, 
dwelt  in  a  partlv  ruined  castle  not  far  from  the  city.  His 
naturally  hauglity  temper  was  soured  by  ever  increasing 
poverU',  but  I  thought  not  of  him.  Like  that  sudden 
awakening  of  my  sleeping  soul  when  touched  by  the 
maeic  wand  of  music,  on  that  memorable  day  long  ago, 
the  vision  of  Amalia  awoke  my  heart  to  the  power  of  love  ; 


^ 


11 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


119 


you  ?'  I  tried  to 
•ords,  wliL-ii  my 

into  a   viok'iit 
and    soon  snc- 

to  him  every 
he  felt  sure,  lie 
It  my  pros^ress 
Id  master  soon 
y  to  admiring 
ice  when  these 

fame  soon   be- 

twenty,  I  was 
-ganists  in  Ger- 
lissistant  orj;an- 
iiid  I  then  took 
rslie  died,  hless- 
ne  earnestly   to 

I  possessed,   as 

the  j^lory  of  the 
lis  place.  Still 
cities  and  heard 
Dtlier  was  to  be 
1  the  realms  of 
ilded,  ever  more 
It  was  my  cus- 
k,  a  concert  of 
[  at  one  of  these 
,cr  ! — a  poem  in 
The  Epiphany 
!  Joy  touching 
it  name  for  me. 

I  can  go  no  f:ir- 
I  must  finish  my 
ughter  of  the  old 

but  poor  noble, 
(in  the  city.  His 
■  ever  increasing 
ike   that  sudden 

touched  by  the 
)le  day  long  ago, 
lie  power  of  love  ; 


heiKc  ortii,  music  became  f.,r  me  tlie  e]o,|uence  of  a   pas- 

H      ,1     T/"'' '"'?'''  ""'>•  l""'"^"'^-'  P^-lV-wepl  as  tliev 
sened  to  the  passionate  ua.l  that  mv  a.i.M.im  soul  ,lrew 
I  <Mii  the  responsive  kcs s  .,f  the  or-an       1   i,ad    -,s  v/i    ,,., 
th.aight  of  offering  to  her  my  .levotion.  but      ■a.s^^^  ,  ie m 
to  worship  at   a    di.stance.      Who    can    set   limits    to     le 
.ower  of  sympathy.    How  did  she  divine  the  passion  t   a 
ns   .re,l    my    n.us.c?       I  cannot   tell.       Hut    .so    it  was 
Uuuu-e  wlncli  deternnnes  the  late  of  .so  manv   things   de- 
ternnnedours    One  evening,  after  tlK-  conceit,  her^ather 
engaged  in  s,.  emu  conversation   with   s..me  „f  ii,e  chief 
men  of  the   city;  they  p,olonge<I    their    talk    long      fti 
every  ""e  el.se  had  left  the  church.      Amalia,  mei mv      '• 
had    wandered   rouu.l   the  old    building,    looking  ^te 
quaint  monuments  that  marked  the  re.sthigplace.s  of  ma   v 
a  strong  Ritter  of  the  ancient   time.      It  sc,   chance     UrU 
she  entercHl  one  of  the  tran.septsas  I   came  down    he  st  ks 
from    the  organ-loft     and   we   mel-alo,K- face    o  tee 
I  here    wa.s   one  look-t!ie    words    ■Amalia,'    '  Krnst '- 
and  clasped  m  each  other's  arms  we  sobled  our  vows  of 
fSi-       ir''-     ,^^"^"Pt".'■e  was  .soon  interrupted  bv  her 

hen-I  felt  wi  h  a  strange  shiulder,  the  cold  .shadow  of  the 

uige  despa.r  that  has  since  swallowed  me.     Whv  go  over 

Ibul  :    '"'^    ■'^^"'■y^rtolen    interviews    few  and\short 

Blind  as  we  were,  we  knew  that  ours  was  a  hopeless  love  ■ 

at  the  presumption  of  a      beggar's  brat,"  as  he  called  me 
aspiring  to   the  hand  of  his  daughter.      lu  his  furv     e 

love".  ,M      '  ^^'^^/''^'^•">?  J'^-^r  lofty  name  by  stooping  to 
love  a  plebeian  such  as  I.  ■>  v    h   ^ 

"Oh,  the  long  nights  of  racking  agony,  the  wild  deliri- 
ous days;  yet,  .strangely,  I  think  of  thein  as  belonging  to 
-some  one  else  and  pity  him,  pity  him.  I  sit  for  ours 
and  question  myself,  Was  it  I  who  endured  ?  Then  I  fall 
to  weeping;  and  oh,  how  I  pity  him,  whether  it  was  I  or 
another  who  suffere.l.  Something  has  go,  e  from  mv 
memory  of  what  followed.     I  can  onlv,  wiUi  labor   recall 

dS'-ared  thn/ln 'f  ■  f/''^^^'^'^.'''-'-  that  the  old  count  had 

h^tir      r  ^^a"^'liter  having  pnned  unworthy  to  be 

the  wife  of  a  man  of  noble  birth,  he  would  give  her  to 


20 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


Ihc   first   suilor  xvho  presented  himself,  who  wP.s    rich 
enough  to  fre.-  luin  Iroin  his  einl-arrassmeiils,  no  nmtler 
what  Ills  station.     This  ronsed  n.e  to  a  new  h;o       Riches 
became  my  sole  desire.     I  dreamed  <.f  In.dm-  vast  treas- 
ures. I  spent  davs  and  nights  searclnng  thron^h  deser  ed 
ruined  houses  with  the  hope  of  findui-  some  lorgotteii 
hoard.     I  still  retained  my  skill  as  a  player  and  composer. 
I  bargained  eagerly  with    publishers.  exacUng  the     ast 
farthing  they  w..uld  give  for  my  nmsic;  with  every  adu- 
tiou  to  my  small  hoard,    my   raging  thirst   for  gold  in- 
creased.    I  tortured  mvsclf  forming  vaiii  plans  to  grow 
rich  rapidlv,  when  a  strange  event  took  place      One  day 
a  pleasant 'h)okiiig  elderly  man,  quiet  y  ^»'^/7^);.'";"^,  y 
dressed    was  waiting  for  me  when  I   descended  from  the 
organ  loft,  he  approache.l  me  with  the  easy  manner  of  a 
man  of  the  world,  complimented  me  on  my  perf  .rmance, 
and  in  a  patroiu/ing  way,   ituiuired  about  my  prospects. 
I  was  easilv  induced  to  pour  out  all  my  griefs  and  desires 
to  any  one  who  would  listen,  and  tohl  him  eagerly  of  my 
wish  to  grow  rich.     He  smiled  a  strange  smile  and  said  : 
.  I   ,j„,   rich— rich   bevond  your   w!lde>t   dreams-but    I 
would  willingly  give  the  half  of  it  to  po.ssess  -V "»r  ;;;lei'  • 
'  \h''   I  cr=ed    '  I  wish  it  were  possible  ;  without  Amalia  1 
value  it  not  '     '  If  you  will  consent,'  he  replied,  '  nothing 
is  easier  '     As  he  spoke  these  words  he  fixed  on  me  a 
look  that  .seemed  to  burn  into  my  brain.     With  some  mad 
hope  I  said:   '  I  consent,   with  all  my  heart       W  ith  a 
'.traii-e  gesture  he  suddenly  and  unexpected  y  put  hi^ 
h  uurou  my  head,  I  felt  a  shock,  like  fire,  rusl;  through 
my    body,  and   fell  insensM.le.     When    I  regamed   con- 
cfousness  I  was  alone,  but  held  a  closely  folded  paper  m 
„iv  hand  ;  mechanically  I  opened  and  read  it   without  .t 
first  comprehending  these  strange  words  :     I  resent  Uiis 
atthe  bank.  Amalia  is  your...'     Sudden  y  their  meaning 
aashed  on  me.     Deliri.nis  with  joy  I  rushed  through  the 
c^tix-ets,  entered  the  heavy  gates  of  the  temp  eot  mammon, 
laid  the  paper  before  the  attentive  clerk.     W  ith  a  ook  ol 
Si^^prise  he  picked  it  up.     I   then  observed  for  the  first 
time  some  w  ritiiig  at  the  bottom  of  he  sheet,  what  ,t  w-as 
I  know  not,  but  its  effect  was  magical.    Ania/ed  stupefied 
I  stood  silent  while  the  head  men  of  the  bank  crowded 


The  "  Scratch  C/ub." 


121 


]! 


,  who  WP-S  rich 
nu-nls,  lu)  matter 
lew  U:c.  Riches 
luliiig  vast  treas- 
lhn)U,i;h  deserted 
^  sonic  lorgi>lteu 
•er  and  composer, 
ixactiiig   the    kist 

with  every  adtli- 
hirst  for  gokl  in- 
in  plans  to  grow 
;  ])hice.  One  day 
•  and  becomingly 
scended  from  the 
easy  manner  of  a 

niv  ])erfi)rmance, 
lut  my  prospects. 

griefs  and  desires 
lim  eagerly  of  my 
re  smile  and  said  : 
■,t  dreams  — but  I 
issess  your  talent.' 

without  Amalia  I 
:  rei)lied,  '  nothing 
he  fixed  on  me  a 
.  With  some  mad 
;  heart.'  With  a 
xpectedly  put  his 
fire,  rusl-i  through 
1  I  regained  con- 
.•ly  fuUled  paper  in 
read  it,  without  at 
rds  :  '  Present  this 
;nly  their  meaning 
ushed  through  the 
emple  of  mannuon. 
k.  With  a  look  of 
served  for  the  first 
:  sheet,  what  it  was 

Anui/ed,  stupefied, 

the  bank  crowded 


around  me,  and  ccmgratulatcd  me  on  my  sudden  rise  to 
wealth.     The  news  spread  like  wild  tire  liirougii  the  eity 
that   a    liberal   stranger   had    made   Jvriist    the   organist 
wealthy,  and  now  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  add 
to  his  fame  as  one  of  the  greatest  compo.sers  in  Oermany. 
I  heard  them  speaking  thus  as  I  left  the  bank,  but  i)a,ssei' 
on  unheeding,  intent  oidy  on  claiming  Amalia  as  my  own. 
Then   I  heard,  I   know  not  how,  that  she  was  away,  no 
one  knew  where,  or  when  .she  would  return.     Kranlic  at 
the  delay  in  the  fruition  of  my  hopes,  I  wanderetl   ainr- 
lessly  about  the  streets  for  hours,  until  ready  to  sink  with 
weariness  and  exhaustion,  when,  bethinking   me  of  my 
old  tried  friend,  my  solace  during  so  manv  weary  liours, 
my  organ,  I  turned  my  stejjs  towards  the'  church.     The 
evening     was    approaching    rapidly    as    I    entered     it. 
The   ghastly    form.s  on    the   .sculptured   arches   and   on 
the   tombs   of  the    knights   seemed,    in    the   dim   light, 
to    be   iiodding    their    heads    to   each   other  and    leering 
at  me   as    I   passed  up  the   deserted   aisle,   I  thought  I 
heard    faint   echoes   of   sardonic    laughter   as   I   oi)ene(l 
the  organ,  and  then,  oh,  horror!  I  discovered  the  »)rice 
I   had  paid  for  my  wealth.     The  key-board  was  a  blank, 
to  my  i)ewildered  gaze  ;   little  griinling  devils  seemed  to 
tos.s  the  keys  about  and   mix   tnem  in  unmeaning  con- 
fusion.    I  tried   to  put  my  hands  on  them.     Lost — lost 
was  all  my  skill;  hideous  di.scord  followed  the  attemjit. 
A   satyr's  head,   among  the  grotescpie  carvings  on  the 
organ,  suddenly  assumed  the  face  of  the  ])olite  stranger, 
asking  me,  with  mocking  smiles,  'if  I  was  tired  of 'my 
bargain.'     With  a  shriek  of  terror  I  sprang  from  the  seat, 
which  was  instantly  filled  for  a  moment  by  a  slmdowy 
form,  which  turned  on  me  the  sad,  reproachful  gaze  of 
my  earl\-,   only  benefactor.      I  strove  to  rush   from  the 
place,  when  again  there  surged  through  me  that  .scorching 
fire.      I  .seemed  to  sink  into  a  limitless  vault  of  awful 
darkness,  acro.ss  which,  in  flaming  letters  that  seared  my 
eyes,  I  read,  '  Hope  is  not  for  Judas  in  art  as  in  religion.' 
With  a  superhuman  effort  I  rose  to  mv  feet  to  flee.     The 
church  was  filled  with  a  i)ale,  unearthly  light.     All  the 
grotesque  and  horrible  monsters,  carved   bv  the  cniniing 
hands  of  long-forgotten  artists,  as  symbols  of  evil  pas- 


122 


The  "  Scratch  C/k/k" 


sioiis— all  were  in  motion.  They  glared  on  me,  oi  leered 
on  nie,  their  new  comrade,  a  hideous  welcome.  A  huge 
stony  .serpent  that  coiled  round  a  large  pillar,  twisted  and 
untwisted  his  ponderous  rings,  and  with  glittering  eyes 
fixed  on  me,  hissed,  'Judas,  Judas.'  Maddened  with 
shame,  I  rushed  from  the  church  and  fled,  I  knew  not 
whither— far  from  the  cit\-,  over  lonely  coiuitry  roads,  for 
days  and  nights  without  rest.  One  evening  I  sank  ex- 
hausted by  a  small  inn  in  a  quiet  Alpine  town.  There 
was  great  hustle  and  preparation  going  on  to  receive  some 
imjiortant  guest.  Travel-stained  and  weary,  I  was  thrust 
aside  as  of  no  importance,  and  was  glad  to  accept  the 
invitation  of  a  servant,  who,  compassionating  my  worn 
appearance,  invited  me  to  take  a  seat  in  the  kitchen. 
Stupefied  with  fatigue,  I  sank  into  the  welcome  seat,  but 
was  soon  attracted  l)y  the  noise  and  bustle  that  announced 
the  arrival  of  a  travelling  carriage.  As  the  party  entered 
I  heard  the  cheery  voice  of  a  man  giving  orders  for  their 
accomnuxlation,  then  a  slight  remark  accompanied  by  a 
rippling  laugh  from  a  woman's  voice  that  sent  the  blood 
surging  through  my  veins,  and  made  me  bound  from  my 
seat  and  rush  wildly  into  the  hall.  My  appearance  was 
greeted  with  a  scream  from  x\malia,  who  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  the  man,  crying,  '  Oh,  my  husband,  save 
me  from  that  madman.'  At  the  sound  of  the  word 
'husband,'  I  .sank  as  though  blasted  by  a  bolt  from 
heaven.     I  remember  no  more. 

"  For  years,  long  years,  have  I  sat  watching  the  build- 
ing of  these  walls  that  are  soon  to  crush  me.  I  am  calm 
and  patient  now.  My  doom  is  just.  I  sold  my  birth- 
right for  gold." 


Oiiincs.  Where  did  you  get  that  horrible  story  ? 

Dalton.  It  was  the  work  of  a  maniac,  an  inmate  of  the 
insane  asylum  for  years.  From  what  I  could  gather  of 
his  history,  he  was  a  young  musician  of  great  promise, 
whose  reason  was  up.set  on  hearing  that  a  young  lady — 
whom  he  knew  only  by  sight,  but  for  whom  he  had  con- 
ceived a  romantic  passion, ^ — was  about  to  be  married. 


11 


i  on  me,  ot  leered 
elcome.  A  huge 
pillar,  twisted  and 
th  glittering  eyes 
^Iaddened  with 
fled,  I  knew  not 
coiuitry  roads,  for 
Aening  I  sank  ex- 
ine  town.  There 
;)n  to  receive  some 
eary,  I  was  thrust 
lad  to  accept  the 
onating  my  worn 
t  in  the  kitchen, 
welcome  seat,  but 
tie  that  announced 
;  the  party  entered 
ig  orders  for  their 
accompanied  by  a 
iiat  sent  the  blood 
le  bound  from  my 
y  appearance  was 
>ho  threw  herself 
my  husband,  save 
und  of  the  word 
I   by   a   bolt  from 

atching  the  build- 

h  me.     I  am  calm 

I  sold  my  birth- 


ible  story  ? 
,  an  inmate  of  the 
I  could  gather  of 
of  great  promise, 
it  a  young  lady — 
ivhom  he  had  con- 
to  be  married. 


T/ie  "  Scra/t/i  Qubr 


^21 


Uixzel.  It  has  taken  so  long  to  rend  your  weird  story 
that  it  is  too  late  to  begin  aii\  di>cussion. 

Hr.  Cioodmau.  1  have  a  shrewd  .suspicion  that  Dalton 
invented  it  liiinself,  as  a  sort  of  allegory  to  teacli  the  im- 
portant trulli  tl;at  sincerity  is  the  one  tiling  needful  in  all 
pursuits;  that  the  artist  deba.ses  his  art  when  he  iuake.s 
its  gains  his  cliief  concern. 

Crabbc.  Vou  may  l)e  riglil  ;  but  I  crin't,  for  tlie  life  of 
me,  imagine  when,  where,  or  how  Dalton  gained  anv 
knowledge  of  tiie  "  tender  emotion." 

Di.  Coodiiiaii.  Cra!)be,  you  make  me  aslianied  for  you. 
Come  away  and  be  scolded. 

Crabbc  i^s/z/^s).  Ach  !     ' '  Ich  liabe  gelcl^t  und  geliebet. ' ' 


/ 


EICxHTHEXTII    liYHXlXG. 

A    /)is(iissi(>i/    on    (.(iioal   Miis/ia/    Taslf   and 
Inlmialional  ( 'opyr/o/i/. 

CI  Hi)  discussion  this  evening  was  so  interesting  that  I 
made  very  copious  notes  of  it :  The  views  e.\])ressed 
b\-  the  clul)  on  the(|Ueslu)n  (»i  tlie  i)resence  or  alisence  of 
musical  tasle  in  .Vmerira.  seemed  to  me  well  worthy  of 
preservation,  e\en  though  they  may  not  lie  (juite  correct, 
being  the  ojiiuions  of  men  who  may  be  considered  as  ex- 
perts.    Their     views   on     tlie    International    Copyright 


I 


If' 


124 


The  "  Scratch  Club" 


wrangle,  thou^;li  somewhat  warmly  (.'xpressed,  are,  I 
think,  in  the  main  just;  however,  instead  of  obtruding 
my  own  opinion,  I  will  retire  to  my  customary  obscurity 
and  let  them  speak  for  themselves  : 

Dr.  Cioodman.  I  think,  speaking  of  musiccd  taste,  that 
I  remember  on  a  former  occasion  hearing  Crabbe  say  that 
he  always  looked  with  suspicion  on  artists  who  professed 
the  aim  of  elevating  the  public  taste,  adding  with — what 
shall  I  say  ? — his  usual  urbanity — that  it  was  only  a  cover 
to  "  ])utting  a  few  dollars  in  the  artist's  pocket." 

C'-al>br.   I  admit  it  all,  Doctor,  but — 

Parks.   The  urbanity. 

Pr.  (ioodiiiiut.  Parks,  don't  try  to  emphasize  my  mild 
jest. 

Crahbr.  That  awful  iioem  has  been  the  ruin  of  Parks. 
He  sets  up  \u;\\'  for  a  wit. 

lfa-:cL  Upon— Oh,  what  a  slender  basis  ! 

Parks.   Anyway,  the  basis  was  fact,  not  "  allegory.'' 

Pr.  (iiHHinnvi.  {^.4s  Ha:cl  Is  about  to  retort).  Now  do 
stop.  I  want  very  much  to  have  some  serious  d'  •  nission. 
So  please  f(jr  one  evening  to  forget  both  "  i)oem  "  and 
"allegory."  Dalton  won't  you  answer  me.  I  would 
like  to  know  if  the  general  musical  culture  of  our  pe()i)le 
is,  or  is  not,  as  high  as  that  of  other  countries.  I  have  a 
suspicion  ftom  certain  things  that  I  have  heard  or  read 
that  it  is  not,  and  I  want  to  know  why. 

Palton.  Oil,  Doctor, how  easy  it  is  to  ask  hard  questions 
— how  hard  to  answer  them  satisfactorily  !  To  begin  :  I 
think  the  truest  answer  may  be  reached  by  deduction  from 
this  premise  ;  the  art  of  a  people  must  be  an  indigenous 
growth  if  it  is  ever  to  reach  the  highest  plane.  It  is  otily 
thus  that  art  becomes  the  genuine  expression  of  the  na- 
tional .soul,  if  I  may  say  so. 

Dr.  Cioodinau.  I  will  grant  that,  but  does  it  follow  that 


repressed,  are,  I 
ml  of  ohtrudiisg 
omary  obscurity 

.iskvl  ta.stu',  that 
:  Cral)l)e  say  that 
:s  who  professed 
liiij;  with — what 
was  only  a  cover 
)ocket." 


phasize  my  mild 
'  ruin  of  Parks. 


t  "  allegory."' 
retort).  Now  do 
■riousd'-nissioti. 
Ill  "  j)oeiii  "  and 
r  me.  I  would 
ire  of  our  people 
iitries.  I  have  a 
^e  heard  or  read 

ik  hard  questions 
f  !  To  begin  :  I 
ly  deduction  from 
be  an  indigenous 
Mane.  It  is  otdy 
:ssion  of  the  na- 

oes  it  follow  that 


!) 


The  "  Scratch  Club. 


125 


a  people  without  an  indigenous  art  are  thereby  incapaci- 
taled  to  appreciate  the  art  of  more  forttinate  peoples  > 

Dal  Ion.  I  fcar-yes-in  a  great  <lcgree.  Music  is  I 
venture  to  say,  beyond  all  other  arts,  the  most  perf.'ct  ex- 
pression of  the  national  soul.  Now,  the  development  of 
a  national  soul,  or  artistic  sense,  ( I  wish  I  coul.l  find  a 
better  word  to  exi)ress  my  meaning),  presupposes  l.mg 
years  of  undisturbed  growth,  until  a  people  have  become 
iiomogeneous  in  thought  and  feeling.  Plie  exact  reverse 
of  this  IS  the  case  witli  our  people,  here  we  have  a  .seeth- 
ing mas.s  made  up  of  units  from  every  race  on  the  face 
oftheearth,  a  process  of  adjustment  ever  going  on  bnt 
ever  interrupted  by  fresh  innux  .,f  new  material.  This 
provides  the  best  possible  medium  for  the  growth  of  the 
useful-the  material,  but  the  worst  po.ssible  for  the 
beautiful— the  ideal. 

CrablH-.   In  other   words  your   meaning  is  :    It    wonld 
takea  thou.sand  yearsof  quiet  simmering   to  amalgamate 
the  ingredients  of  our  national  pot,  and,  with  the   lid  on 
to  keep  out  fresh  additions  to  the  soup. 

Hazel.  Crabbe.  it  is  too  bad.  I  was  just  getting  inter- 
ested in  Daltou's  di.scour.se  when  you  must  cut  in  and 
spoil  it. 

Dalton.  Never  miml;  he  expressed  mv  idea  exactly  but 
not  (juite  in  the  way  I  was  going  to. 

Parks.   We  have  a  better  opinion  of  vou  than  that 

Dallon.  Now,  I  think  that  without  ibis  national  soul 
guided  and  trained  by  native  artists,  who  are  at  once   it.s 
creators  audits  product,  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a 
widespread  high  degree  of  culture. 

C.abhe.  But,  in  its  place,  a  fierce  wrangle,  for  the  most 
part  Ignorant  and  therefore  fiercely  dogmatic  of 
•|  schools  ••  and  imitators  of  "  schools  "  and  advocates  of 

schools. "     -A  great  cry,  but  a  great  scarcitj-  of  wool. ' ' 


it 


I 


136 


Tlii  "  ScraUli  Clubr 


Dr.  Coodmau.  Doii'l  bf  so  sriviige  ;  don't  you  tliink 
tliat  tliis  very  i.-oiillicl  will  Rsull  in  some  i  c\v  tliiiiR. 
better  perhaps  tluui  the  world  has  yet  known  ?  Truth 
always  comes  forth  purer  and  stronger  from  the  fires  ol 

con  flic' 

Dultoii.  If  it  is  a  question  of  science  or  ethics,  yes  ;  but 
beiny;  a  (luestionofart,  110. 
Ilii-:el.  I  fail  to  see  why. 

Palloii.  IJecause  there  are  absolute  standards  for  these 
thiuKS.  Coullict  oidy  makes  them  k^'I  themselves  more 
and  more  in  accord  with  eternal  fact.  But  there  is  no 
such  absolute  staiulard  fcrart,  least  of  all  for  the  art  of 
music.  Conflict  tends  to  cry.slalli/.e  opinion  into  dogma, 
and  dogma  is  the  death  of  art. 

Crabbr.  True,  for  my  part,  I  don't  even  believe  in  the 
rules  of  harmony,  yet  they  are  the  only  tangible  things  in 
nuisic.     When  any(jne  begins  to  dogmatize  in  my  liearing 
about  uuisic  I  always  ask  him  to  explain  to  me  the  differ- 
ence between  "  Shoo  fly  "  and    "II  mil)  Tesoro."     Why 
is  one  vulgar,  the  other  beautiful  ?     Music  will  never  be 
explained  until  the  translation  of  sensation  into  emotion 
is  explained.     Here  is  the  problem  algebraically  put  :   Let 
X  be  the  mass  of  aerial  vil)ralions  of  .liffcring  in  tensities 
and  amplitudes  we  call  tlie  fifth  symphony,  then  let  j'  be 
the  auditoiy  apparatus  upon   which   they  impinge,    then 
11'  must  .someway  —  ;/,  the  emotion  caused  in  the  hearer. 
'  Parks.  Well,  what  a  rigmarol-  !     I  wonder  if  any  other 
man  living  omldgel  "  .Shoo  fly,"  the  "  translation  of  sen- 
sation." and  .11',  into  one  l)reathless  sentence, 

Cnihbr.  Parks,  in  all  many-sided  minds  the  macrocosm 
lies  infolded  ;  the  finite  thus  in  a  certain  sense  compre- 
hending the  infinite.  In  such  minds  the  mutual  inten  c- 
l)eudence  of  the  apparently  trivial  and  the  apparently  im- 
portant assumes  its  true  value,  and  therefore— 


C 


don't  y<m  tliink 

JIUL'     lew     lllillK, 

known?     Trnlli 
roin  the  fires  of 

ethics,  yes  ;  but 


uuhirds  for  these 
themselves  more 
But  there  is  no 
11  for  the  art  of 
liuii  into  tlognui, 

en  believe  in  the 
an^ible  things  in 
i/e  in  my  hearing 
1  to  me  the  dilTer- 
Tesoro."  Why 
isic  will  never  be 
ion  into  emotion 
iraically  put :  Let 
Iring  in  tensities 
ony,  then  let  j'  be 
•y  impinge,  then 
ised  in  the  heaver. 
)nderif  any  other 
translation  of  sen- 
:ence. 

ds  the  macrocosm 
in  sense  compre- 
e  mutual  inten  e- 
he  ajiparently  ini- 
efore — 


The  "Scratch  Club." 


127 


Piii/cs.  Oh,  stop.     I'm  stninied, 

Dr  (nmhiian.   Has  no  one  else  anything  to  add  ?    Dalton 
has  laid  a  philos(.phical  foundation — 

Ciabbc.  And  it  only  remains  for  us,  themiphilosophical, 
to  build  our  wood,  straw,  or  stubble  on  it,  I  suppose? 
Well,  I  will  make  my  eonliil)ution.  Allhough  I  am  not 
quite  sure  wheUier  it  is  a  cause  or  an  eflVet  of  misguided 
taste — I  refer  to  the  modern  concert  -this  amusement  is 
nowadays  apt  to  be  either  all  ])iano,  or  all  violin,  or  all 
voice,  and  is  given  under  the  alfecled  name  of  ;i  "  recital.' 
I  am  old-fogy  enough  to  prefer  a  judicious  mixture  of  ail 
three;  and  with  regard  to  the  singing,  perhaps  to  my 
shame,  1  prefer  songs  in  the  concert mom,  even  (I  iilush 
to  add)  extenduig  my  ]>refcrence  to  songs  in  my  own 
tongue.  Why  must  singers  bring  the  ojjcra  into  the  con- 
cert-room ?  These  grand  scenas  are  desjjoiled  of  half 
their  elTect  when  separated  from  their  proper  surround- 
ings. Now,  I  am  sure  that  good  songs,  in  a  language 
"  understanded  of  the  people,"  will  always  plea.se  even 
the  most  fastidious.  But  the  evil  does  not  stop  at  the 
concert-room,  because  the  amateurs  and  the  little  singers 
must  follow  the  bad  example.  Wlio  has  not  suffered  .it 
a  i)arlor  concert  or  a  musical  ter.  from  tlie  labored  attempt 
of  some  mi.sgnided  girl  to  sing  tlie  great  arias  that  great 
singers  spend  years  of  study  to  achieve?  Who  has  not, 
with  guilty  con.science,  joined  in  the  com]<liments,  the 
congratulations,  that  luake  the  recording  angels  weep  sf) 
that  they  cannot  see  to  write  them  down  ?  Not  long  ago 
I  heard  a  jxxir  girl  at  a  i)arlor  concert  sing  a  tierman 
"lied,"  an  Italian  aria,  and  a  .Scotch  song.  The  eficct 
on  me  was  to  make  me  wonder  that  I  liad  never  before 
been  struck  with  the  resemblance  of  these  langu,^ges  to 
each  other.  Her  last  "effort"  was  an  Ivnglish  song. 
At  its  conclusion,  a  grave  gentleman,  who  had  been  a 


1! 


I 


138 


Tlu  "  Scrnfch  Club:' 


vcr>'  attc'iiti vc  listener,  said  to  me,  without  malice  evi- 
dently, "Will  you  l)e  kind  ciiouj;li  to  tell  me  what 
lan^fua^c  that  was.'"  He  looked  injured  when  I  replied, 
"IviiKlish,"  and  moved  his  chair  away.  Now,  "how 
altered  were  the  sprightly  tone  '  were  these  voting 
ladies,  these  mild  tenors,  many  oi  whom  have  pretty 
voices,  to  study  sonjjs  in  their  own  lan^juaj^e,  first  learn- 
ing the  words  and  how  to  proiiouiict' them,  tluti  how  to 
read  them,  then  how  to  sin^  them.  Think  ol"  the  in- 
terested listeners  '  ol  tlie  hilui/it  rasa  oi"  the  celestial 
1  )ook  keepers  !  Why!  it  would  he  a  wellspring  of 
hai)piness  in  two  worlds. 

/)>:  iioihiiiKiii.  Oh,  Cralihe  I  I'.ow  jon  do  manage  to 
get  the  most  incongruous  ideas  into  juxtaposition.  Vet, 
I  heartily  agree  with  you. 

Ihi-cl.  Is  it  not  a  laudable  anii)ition,  though,  for  ama- 
teurs to  attempt  the  things  they  are  taught  to  admire  ? 

Dalton.  Was  it  "laudable  and)ition  '  in  Marsya.'+lo 
contend  with  Apt)llo  for  the  pri/e  in  nuisic  ! 

Dr.  (rooiiiiiini.  Your  comparison  is  too  harsli,  yet  it  is 
very  necessary  to  distinguish  between  an  ambition  that  is 
laudable  and  one  that  is  presumi)tuous;  and  it  certainly 
.seems  .somewhat  presumptuous  for  amateurs  to  attemj)t 
what  Craljbe  says  great  artists  take  yeans  of  labor  to 
accomplish. 

Crabbc.  I  am  sure  tiiat  the  "intelligent  foreigner" 
nuist  often  laugh  in  his  sleeve  at, some  of  the  attempts  to 
sing  hi.s  language  that  he  has  to  submit  to.  We  havi- 
all  heard  foreigners  sing  our  language;  but  how?  I 
remember  on  one  occa^-'on  hearing  an  esteemed  singer  of 
Teutonic  extraction.  She  was  "encored;"  ol' course  she 
came  out  and  .sang  that  nuisance  of  a  Scotch  song,  in 
which  the  obtrusive  young  woman  confides  to  the  audience 
tliat  all  the  young  men  within  a  mile  of  Ivdinbro'  grin  at 
her. 


II 


Tlu  "  Scratch  Ciubr 


129 


lout  malice  tvi- 
i»  kll  iiif  wlial 
when  I  replied, 
Now,  "liDW 
e  these  yi)iiii>; 
om  have  pretty 
itaj^e,  first  learii- 
•111,  tluti  liow  to 
'liiiik  of  the  iii- 
of  the  celestial 
I    wellspriiig    of 

do   manage  to 
aposition.     Yet, 

hoiigh,  for  ania- 
lit  to  admire  ? 

ill   Marsyaj>lo 
ic  \ 

)  harsh,  yet  it  is 
ambition  that  is 

atul  it  certainly 
Lenrs  to  attein])t 
L'ars  of  labor  to 

i^ent  foreigner ' ' 
the  attempts  to 
it  to.  We  have 
:;  but  how  ?  I 
eemed  singer  of 
;  "  of  course  she 
Scotch  song,  in 
■s  to  the  audience 
Ivdinbro'  grin  at 


/1"vf'f.  Oh,  hold  „n;  you  are  mixing  two  songs. 

Lnibhc.  ^Vs  I  remember  now;  I  ,i,„.  \\\.\\  ;,t  ^^^. 
rate,  it  was  the  son^  wliidi  begins,  according  to  her, 
'(fin  a  pod-de  e-f  iiutt  a  pod-de-e-e.'' 

Ila-:cl.  I  oiu-e  saw  the  sniniinity  of  an  Kpiscopal  service 
sadly  npset  by  some  (krman  singers  in  the  choir,  who 
began  the  "  Venite,"  -Q  gum!  kt  ns  sing  •  The 
rector  sent  np  word  that  he  would  rea.l  the  remaining 
canticles.  *' 

n,.(iood„uu,.  We  seem  to  be  trailing  ofT  into  absunl 
leMiiiuscences.     Come,  Hazel,  it  is  your  turn. 

n,i-.1.  Well,  r  li.ive  a  theory  th.it  the  copyright  I 
shonl.l  say  the  copywrong.  law-  international,  I  meaii- 
has  a  very  detrimental  effect  on  pnblie  taste 

Dr.  (hnniman.  Tint    is  a   surprising   the<.ry  at   least 
Do  proceed. 

Haul  Suppose  a  musician  writes,  say,  a  goo.l  song. 
Naturally  he  would  like  to  get  .some  m  ,uey  return  for  the 
pleasure  the  public  might  get  fnmi  its  po.sseSKion  His 
<le.sue  is  perleclly  just,  because  the  production  of  a  IukIi- 
class  composition  presupi.oses  a  long  and  .severe  traininu 
and  every  man  has  a  right  to  demand  a  return  for  hU 
work  If  the  public  want  it.  Now,  if  it  were  a  "  peiicil- 
sharpei.er,"  or  a  "  tlytrap,"  or  any  other  never  ,so  con- 
temptible piece  of  mechanism,  he  mi.^ht  .secure  the  sole 
right  to  make  and  .sell  it  all  over  the  civilized  world  •  but 
being  merely  a  piece  of  "fine  art,"  anvbodv  out  of  his 
own  country  may  steal  it. 

Cahbc.  Hut  y.m  forget  "genius"  is  the  property  of  the 
world  to  use  or  abuse  ^generally  the  laVH-r)  as  it  plea.seth 
;  ••  ^^'>-t7!>^;'  '-i'"!  "  pencil-sharpeners  ••  are  cmcrete 
lungs,  of  which  the  money  value  is  patent  to  the  n.ost 
obtuse  of  legislators.  Genius  should  be  above  the  sordi.l 
desire   for   "  lood,   shelter,    and    raiment --should   seek 


il 


130 


The  "  Scratch  Clubr 


only  fame.  Then  let  it  han<j  or  staive,  so  the  world  (and 
the  publishers)  gain.  Pardon  my  interruption,  and 
proceed. 

Hazel.  One  result  of  this  is  that  the  publisher  says,  and 

truly,  "Why  should   I  pay  you  for  a  song  when  I  can 

pick  and  choose  from  all  the  songs  in  Europe  for  nothing  ?" 

Dr.   Goodman.  I  musL  confess  I   do  not  see  yet  why 

such  a  state  of  affairs  should  injure  public  taste. 

Hazel.  Wait  a  moment,  I  am  coming  to  it.  The  sale 
of  the  best  work  in  any  art  is  necessarily  slow,  and  the 
publisher  is,  on  that  account,  afraid  to  put  money  into  it. 
Therefore,  the  only  good  \\  ork  he  publishes  is  that  that 
lias  already  become  well  known  in  ICurojje,  because  he  is 
sure  to  get  a  return  for  his  outlay. 

Crabbe.  Well,  isn't  he  quite  right?  Pul)lishing  houses 
do  not  pretend  to  be  educational  establishments,  thev  are 
only  commercial  ventures. 

Hazel.  Yes,  I  know  that.  I  am  not  blaming  them,  I 
am  merely  trying  to  get  at  a  clear  statement  of  the  case. 

Dr.  Goodman.  What  do  you  suppose  woul'd  lie  the 
effect  of  an  international  copyright  ? 

Hazel.  Just  this.  The  publisher  would  have  to  pay  for 
the  foreign  Avorks  he  printed.  The  native  artist,  if  unable 
to  sell  his  work  at  home,  would  have  the  chance  of  selling 
it  abroad.  This  would  soon  bring  about  a  fair  l)alance  in 
the  relation  nf  the  writ<'r  lo  the  pul)lisher. 

Dr.  Goodman.  I  can  see  how  the  case  of  the  writer 
would  be  improved,  but  not  yet,  how  the  public  taste  is 
affected. 

Hazel.  Publishers  make  nif-ney  from  their  copyrights, 
and  the  valuable  copyrigllt^  are,  as  a  rule,  the  worst  kind 
of  music,  and  they  cost  him  nothing.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  ambitious  amateur  writers  who,  with  laborious 
effort,  torture  out  of  the  piano  scmething  that  they  and 


The  "  Scratch  Club:' 


131 


so  the  world  (and 
interruption,    and 

)ubli3hersays,  and 

song  when  I  can 

rope  for  nothing?" 

not  see  yet  why 

ilie  taste. 

ig  to  it.  The  sale 
irily  slow,  and  the 
put  money  into  it. 
ilishes  is  that  that 
•ope,  because  he  is 

Pul)lisliing  houses 
ishnienls,  thev  are 

)t  blaming  them,  I 
anient  of  the  case, 
ose    would    lie    the 

uld  have  to  pay  for 
;ive  artist,  if  unable 
lie  chance  of  selling 
ut  a  fair  l)alance  in 
lier. 

case  of  the  writer 
the  ])ublic  taste  is 

ni  their  copyrights, 
rule,  the  worst  kind 
;.  There  are  thou- 
irho.  with  laborious 
thing  that  they  and 


their  friends  think  is  music,  they  ru.sh  off,  glowing  witli 
ambition  to  the  publisher.  Pie  blandlv  .savs  ;  "  oii,  yes, 
I  will  publish  your  music  if  you  will  take  llVty  copies,  you 
can  easily  dispose  of  them  amongst  your  frieiuls."  Now 
see  the  result.  The  "composition"  co.sts  the  publisher 
nothing,  the  engraving  is  paid  for  (and  niore^  by  the  fifty 
copies  the  author  buys.  He  (the  pu])lislier;  .se'cures  the 
copyright.  If  it  should  take,  as  many  of  these  things  do 
in  the  most  unaccountable  fashion,  he  reaps  n  golden 
harvest.     If  it  does  not  take,  he  loses  nothing. 

Dr.  Goodman  I  should  call  that  a  symptom  not  a  cause 
of  bad  taste  or  low  musical  culture,  because  even  if  the 
copyright  law  were  changed,  I  think  publishers  .vould  go 
on  in  the  .same  way  as  long  as  they  made  money  1)y  it. 

Dal  ton.  True;  but  I  agree  with  Hazel  in  thinking  that 
other  circumstances  would  i)roduce  beneficial  results, 
because  good  writers  would  have  more  inducement  to 
write,  and  the  production  of  a  better  class  of  music  might 
in  time  produce  a  higher  standard  of  popular  taste. 
Crabbc.  Il'm  !  problematical,  very  ! 
/v.  Coodman.  Apart  from  any  such  considenaion,  lean- 
not  see  why  the  patent  law  and'  the  copyrigh:  law  .should 
not  be  identical  in  tlieir  provisions.  I  also  tliiiik  that, 
when  any  work,  be  it  book,  machiiie,  music  or  what  n^t,' 
meets  with  a  success  that  was  not  anticipated,  that  the 
author  or  inventor  should  have  a'fair  share  of  the  i)rofit. 

Crabbc.  The  world  is  not  (piite  ready  for  equitv,  has  a 
hard  struggle-too  often  a  vain  one— to  secure  law  ,  .ind  a 
veritable  "  Father  Antic  "  it  proves  very  ofLin. 

Dr  Goodman.  It  would  b-;  a  good  plan  to  make  these 
rights  inalienable.  It  would  -,ccure  justice  tv)  the  author 
and  inventor,  and  do  no  injustice  to  the  publisher  and 
maker. 

Crabbe.   Don't  you  see  what  an  injustice  it  would  be  to 


1^" 

[ 


13: 


The  "  Scnrfi/i  Club." 


the  poor  niamifacturer,  to  lake  from  him  the  chance  of 
getting  holil  of  the  (-(iiitrivauce  of  some  ingenious  work- 
man wlio,  poor  fellow,  has  no  idea  of  its  commercial 
value,  fur  a  trifle  ?  vShould  not  shrewdness  be  rewarded  as 
Well  as  ingenuity  ?  Is  it  not  the  capital  of  the  one,  as 
genius  is  of  the  other  ?  Ought  it  not  to  have  free  plaj', 
like  all  the  other  gifts  of  nature  ? 

Hazel  That's  enough  of  sophistry,  or  is  it  sarcasm? 

Parks.  How  sarcasm  ■•  It  seems  to  me  a  good  argu- 
ment. Who  would  not  jump  at  the  chance  of  buying  a 
valuable  patent  if  he  could  get  it  chea])  ? 

Daltoti.  Ivven  "sports"  consider  it  infamous  to  bet  on 
a  certainty,  and  I  can  see  no  dilTerence  between  ])aying  a 
man  iive  dollars  for  what  you  know,  Init  he  does  not,  is 
worth  fifty,  and  picking  his  pocket. 

Dr.  Cioodumn.  There  is  a  rule  of  life  called  the  "golden 
rule,"  and  there  is  a  rule  of  business  called  "caveat 
emptor."  What  depths  and  heights  divide  them!  I 
dare  not  despair,  j'ct  I  hardly  dare  to  hope  that  a  time 
may  come  when  mankind  will  walk  by  the  first,  and  will 
be  ashamed  to  remember  that  they  ever  lived  by  the  last. 

Crabhe.  "When  will  that  be, 

Say  the  bells  of  Stepnee  ? 

I  do  not  know, 

,5ays  the  great  bell  of  Bow." 

Hazel.  Let  ns  make  our  exit  after  that  neat,  tasteful 
tag  to  Dr.  Goodman's  remark;i,  we  have  talked  half  the 
night  away. 


ni  the  chance  of 
iiii^Luious  work- 
)f  its  coininercial 
ss  be  rewarded  as 
tal  of  the  one,  as 
D  have  free  play, 

is  it  sarcasm  ? 
ne  a  pood  arjj^u- 
ancc  of  ])nyiiig  a 

ifanums  to  bet  on 
letwcen  ])aying  a 
lit  he  does  not,  is 

lUed  the  "  golden 
s  called  "caveat 
divide  them !  I 
hoi>e  that  a  time 
the  first,  and  will 
lived  bv  the  last. 


:hat  neat,  tasteful 
re  talked  half  the 


NINETEKXTH   EVENING. 

Dr.   Good,„au     Tr//s  a  Sfory    ahoul    a    Strad. 
rari/ts  I  '/<>////, 

:^^;:;i.:;.zi;  ■:;? '!n;::-^;^rr"^""' ^"-^ " 

seisnt,      \r    1  '  "^  ^■'■'^^  niL-etmg  f,,,-  this 

In    we  f.    .'■'"■  T"'  "'  ""^^  I^'^^'-'^-'^  hours  togc-the 
liatue  feci  soineuliat  saddened  at   the   nn,s,u«<-t   -.f 
k>ngsepuratio„.     ^Vry  little  was  said  be'^H    V  n  h" 
began,  but  the  genius  of  ,„„sie-  soo„  asserted   l,-? 
I^^ce^io  the  musical    sold,  n.  an  the  pettvm":^'^^ 

^v     rX^'"''^^r''"-P-l''^>--ot).e,scango 
«"',     3t.ir  aflei    year,   plavnig  the   <iuirl.tt,.<  ,,r  ir       i 

M.^r. .,.,,.  „„v. .i„,t,. z-:^:::.];;;j'^ 

instance,    (.ial)l)e  has   been   a    (iinrt,.ft,. 
player  (;.r  „e,.rly  fi,ty  years,   yet  he  savs-- ^   '"^^t 
:iou-n  to  a  quartette  without  a    thrill  of  pleasure    tnts 
':Klescnl,able.-   Hveu  Parks,  who  le.nned 'to  p    "  t   e' vio 
I'll  with  the  a\  owed  intention  of  plnin.r  n..  i    !    .       , 

man  uie   otlleI^     surprise,  d  scovered   that    nr,.ff,.       i 

W  lost  their  attractions  .,n.im,:;!de,^^"n^^ 
et  he  wdl  uotaduiit  it,  hisbeloved  Italian  op  .a  i    J    „' 

ow  losrry,  us  charniTiie  playing  was  ke^tu;::, 

our.     They  seemed  loth  to  stop  withou^  goi,  '-  ,^J    u 

then-  old    favorites.     When   they   ceased 'and' lit   thei" 

(   '.!J  ) 


134 


The  "  Scratdi  Club." 


cigars,  Ihcrc  was  very  liltk- conversation,  except  that  each 
one,  in  a  few  words,  told  his  plans  for  the  snnnner  and 
expressed  his  anticipations  of  their  meeting  again  in  the 

fall. 

Dr.  Goodman  perceiving  that  the  talk  langnished,  said 
—'•I  have  lately  heard  a  strange  story  abont  a  violin, 
from  one  of  the  actors  in  it,  if  you  care  to  hear  it, 
I  will  tell  it,  since  you  all  .seem  unwilling  to  talk."  They 
all  assented  warmly  and  the  Doctor,  producing  a  .small 
roll  of  manu.script,  said,  "  I  have  written  the  story  out, 
fearing  I  might  spoil  it  if  I  attempted  to  tell  it."  With 
this  remark  he  read  as  follows  : 

'  •  I  lalstrom  is  a  large  town  in  the  iron  district  of  Sweden, 
black  and  grimv  with  the  smoke  of  huge  blast  furnaces 
that  cover  "the  hillsides,  sending  forth  day  and  night  their 
black  clouds  of  smoke,  lit  occasionally  by  the  glare  irom 
the  tall  chimnevsthat  .stand  like  the  blasted  trunks  ot   a 
fire-swept   pine'  forest,  all  over   the   district.     Scattered 
here  and  there  are  the  cottages  of  rough  stone,  with  .sleep 
thatched  KH.fs,  where  live  the  stalwart  non-workers,  whose 
incessant  labor  transmutes  the  stubborn  iron  ore  into  the 
tlunisand  and  one  useful  shapes  that  find  their  way  t<i  all 
the  world.     A  splendid  race  are  these  workers,  tall,  lair- 
haired  and  blue  eve;l,   like  their  Viking  ancestors,   like 
them,  to.>,  stanch  and  true-li.javted,   brave  and    tender. 
■   Among  the  bravest  and  truest  was  CXscar  Sweynsen,  only 
son  of  his  widowed  mother.     A  prince  among  his  fellows 
was   Oscar   at   either  work  or  merry-making,      lie  luul 
long  loved  Hilda,  one  (>f  the  kiirest  maidens  in  the  town, 
ami  now    having  reached  a  posititm  m  the  iron  \v<  rks 
that  brought  him  suflicient  means,  he  proposed  to  hei. 
She    not  insensible  to   his   good   looks   and   well-known 
character,  accepted  him,  but  alas!  when  Hans  Petersen, 
the  .son  and  heir  of  the  rich  old  notary,  sought  her,  uaz- 
/led  with  che  glitter  of  his  gold,  she  broke  her  faith  with 
Oscar   pad  became  the  wife  of  Hans  and  went  to  live  in 
the  large  stone  house  al  the  end  of  the  town.     Poor  Oscar 
bore  his  disappointu.-xit  bravely,  as  became  lum,  heuevtr 


Till-  '•  Scratch  Club." 


135 


.  cxcent  that(.;ach 
r  the  suinni(.i"  an<l 
.•ling  agaiii  in  tli»^ 

c  latii;uishe(l,  said 
y  about  a  violin, 
care  to  hear  il, 
ig  to  talk."  Tluy 
>ro(lucing  a  small 
LMi  the  story  out, 
Lo  tell  it."     With 

district  of  Sweden, 
ige  blast  furnaces 
lav  and  night  their 

by  the  glare  from 
lasted  trunks  of  a 
listrict.  Scattered 
h  stone,  with  sleep 
ron-w'xkers,  whose 
II  iron  ore  into  the 
nd  their  way  to  all 

workers,  tall,  lair- 
ing ancestors,  like 
lirave  and  tender. 
L-ar  Sweynsen,  only 
.'  among  his  fellows 
-making.  He  had 
aidens  in  the  town, 

in  the  iron  wcrks 
L'  ])roiiosed  to  hci. 
:s  and  well-known 
len  Hans  Petersen, 
y,  sought  her,  daz- 
l')roke  i;er  faith  with 
uid  went  to  live  in 
■  town.  Poor  Oscar 
ecame  him,  he  uevtr 


complanied,  but  rarely  .smiled  ;  worked  harder  than  ever 
bu  las  merry  lace  and  laugh  were  never  a,,ain  .s'n,  and 
heaid  at  the  merry-makings.  All  his  idk-  hours  were 
spent  at  home  playing  on  a  violin  of  won.lerful  .sweetness 
and  power,  the  wild  n,elancholy  airs  of  his  nati  i  1  md 
Ihis  violn.  was  an  heirlo..m  that  had  descended  from  1, h 
grea  gran,  lather.  A  restless  n.ver.  with  grea  m  ie^l 
ab.luy  he  h.ad  visited  nearly  everv  city  in^u  „  s  , 
solo  p  aver,  and   ha<l  bought  this  violi,,  of  Stradiva rh  s 

^.'uh    ■>    V  ^''^  m'  '""^^  ^'''^'''^''^''  possession,  and  ^ 

del,  he  eharge.l  lu.s  .sou  never  to  let  it  pass  out  of  the 
n.n.ly      Hi.s  descendants  had   respected  tl,e  wish  o      le 

d  y.o  n,  player  an.l,  though  ni.ne  of  then,  ],  .,1  ever 
been   players,  ,el,g„n,s!y  kei-t  the  violin.     Thus    ]„     Ik 

HeT  r^-  ',""'■•    '\  ^■••'•"^-    •■"^•'    ^'•^'    l'<-session  .  f'     s.    r' 
le   ha.l    ,nlKr,te<l   some  of  the  musical   in.sti„els  of     [s 
ancesU.r,  but  poverty  and  the  uece.ssity  of  hani  work   to 
support    h,s    w,dowe,l    „,other    had    del.rred    hi,      In, 
learning   to  play.      However,   his  native  talent  ft  un      a 
way  to  overco„,e  all  obstacles.     J5y  <li„t  c.f  pat  e  ce  „d 
acl,ee  he  accon.plished  enough'to  enable  I,inV u' p 
is  e.xqu,s,te  uat.ve  melodies  with  a  palhosand  expiess,    , 
that  no  an,o,,,,t  o,   instruction  eoul/l  1..,,.  betlea'd      A 
ua>s   att.aehed   to   l„s  v,oIi„,  i„   hjs  anguish   at    H,ld-  's 
desert,..,,,  ,t  be..„„e  b^s  only  ...lace.     I^  w..„l.   s^      o  ,J 
■  He     hour,  far  int.,  the  night,  p.,uring  o„t  his  ve,  v  s.  , 
.is  nch,  .sweet  ,so„nds.      His  niother,  to  who,,,    ,e     f 
.ss.ble.  grew  ever  n.ore   tender,  saw  with  wistful  eves 
tile  change  th.at  ha.l  c.„„e  over  her  once  gav  .so      .and 
feanng   he  w.ml.l  never  recover  while  ,s.,  „c.„--  Hil   a    "he 
im.|H.scd  to  (Xscar  that  they  should  leave  their  ol,   home 
n     go  to  Amenca.     (^scar  gla.Ily  cnsente.l,  having  hg 

-     V     n  '/•'"■''',/"  -T^VS^"  ''"I  the  brea.lth  of  the  oee.-  n 
L,  .         '"V':;^^'*^'!"'!  '"^  f^^'i'-l'l^'ss  love.     S.>  thev  .s.>Ul  tl," 
cc^ttage  an.l  the  h.miely  furnitu,-e,  ami,  bi.l.li,,-^.  farew  • 
tot  he,r.sor,-ow,ng  f,-iends,  sailed   for  the  new  xi.rl. 

pi  rm  I  Ik   Delaware,  and  Oscar  an.l  his  n,.)ther  stepped 
.  sh.,re,  w,  h  a  stn.nge  feeling  of  l..„eli,iess  and  ho,ne.ii'ek 
ntvss   ,nt.)  the  cr.nv.1  and  bustle  of  the  new  world.     'IW 
stock  of  means  was  but  small,  and  the  first  necessity  w^ 


1 3^' 


The  "  Scratch  Cluh." 


t  4 


r.i 


to  i.rocuru  some  cheap  VnV^w'^.     This,  nfter  some-  search, 
thev  siiceeeaecl  in  doiiiK.     After  a  rest  ot  one  ri.^ht  Oscar 
s  ill'ied  forth  to  seek  work.     Their  arrival  in  Philadelphia 
was  nnforlunatelv  timed,  being  at  tlie  darkest  period  of 
the  financial  distress  that   toDowed  the  centennial  year. 
Maiiv  large   ironworks   were  closed,  and   those  that  still 
continued  in  operation  had  reduced  their  forces  and  were 
working  on  half-time.     In  vain  Oscar  visited,  one  after 
mother   all   the  iroiU'/orks  in  and  around   the  city  ;    no 
room  could  be  found  for  him.     He  and  his  mother  lived 
.IS  <roiioniically  as  possible,  but  their  little  store  ol   ca^h 
lapidlv  diminished,  and  they  saw  want  staring  them   in 
the  face.     Worn  with  an.xietv,  his  mother   fell  sick,  and 
Oscar  was  in  desi)air.     Looking  through  the  advertise- 
ments ill  a  dailv  paper  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  em- 
ploymeiit,  his  eve  was  caught  by  an  advertisement  which 
read    '  Wanted  to  purchase,  a  violin  ;   must  l>e  lirst  cla.ss  ; 
price  no  object.     Apply  to  1).  vStrothenck,    216  —  vSt 
Cold   (lrot>s  of  iK-rspiration  stood  on  Oscar's  face   alter 
reading  this.      He  thouglit  of  his  beloved    mother  sick, 
ivrhai'rs  (King,    wanting    the   barest    necessities  of    life. 
He  tiioughtof  his  dearlv -cherished  violin,  the  solace  ot 
so  many'lonelv  hours;  of  the  dying  wish  of  his  ancest()r, 
fiithfullv  regarded   through  .so   many  geiieratums.      1  he 
struggle   was  short.       He   went   hoi:%',   took   the   violin, 
kissed   his   poor   mother,    who  saw   that   something   was 
agitating   him,  and   went   to  see   Mr.  vStrothenck.       1  his 
^•entleman  was  a  wealthv  amateur,  with  more  knowledge 
of  the  gciusis  of  instruments  than  ability  to  play  them. 
I  ike  all  violinists,  he  was  an  enthusiast,   and  grew  elo- 
(luent  over  the  curves,  the  scroll,  or  the  varnish  of  an 
Amali.  or  Maggini,  or  Stradivarius.     And  he  now  had  in 
ids  hai'ids  the  most  perfect  specilnen  of  the  la.st  and  greatest 
of  these  makers,  that  he  had  everseen.     His  eyesgiistcned 
as  they  ran  over  its  faultless  curves,  noting  the  even 
.straight  grain   of  the  bellv,    and   the  delicate   ieathered 
•curls"  on  the  back  that  met  at  the  middle  at  just  the 
ri"ht  angle— not  a  flaw,  not  a  .scratch  was  to_  be  seen. 
\skiiig  a   few  cpiestions  about  its  history,  which  O.scar 
answered  in  as  few  simple  words,   Mr.  Strotherick  said, 
ill  his  crisp,  business-like  way,  '  It  is  the  most  perfect 


1 


The''  Scrahh  Clubr 


iftt-r  soniL-  search, 
f  one  ri.i;ht,  Oscar 
il  in  I'luladelphia 
darkcsl  pt-riod  (.'f 
;  CLiUciuiial  year, 
d  Ihosf  thai  still 
ir  Ibrcxs  and  were 

visited,  one  after 
und   the  city  :    no 

his  mother  lived 
itlle  store  of  ea>li 

staring-  theni  in 
her  fell  sick,  and 
<^\  the  advertise- 

findinK  some  eni- 
vertisenieiit  which 
inst  lie  first  class  ; 
■rick,  216  — •  St ' 
Dscar's  face  after 
ived  mother  sick, 
iccessities  of  life, 
ilin,  the  solace  of 
di  of  his  ancestor, 
generations.  The 
took  the  violin, 
:it  something;  was 
•itrotherick.  This 
li  more  knowledge 
ility  to  play  them, 
ust,  and  grew  clo- 
the varnish  of  an 
^nd  he  now  had  in 
lie  la.st  and  greatest 

His  eyes  glistened 
,  noting  the   even, 

delicate  feathered 
middle  at  jnst  the 
h  was  to  be  seen, 
^tory,  which  O.scar 
r.  Strotherick  said. 
s  the  most  perfect 


137 


1 


Strad"  in  America.     I'll  give  you  a  thousand  dollars 
for  it.'     Oscar,  who  had  never  conceived  the  possibility, 
of  .so  much   money  being  in  anyone's  iiossession  at  one 
time,  stared  in  amazement  as  Mr^  .Strotherick,  with  gradu- 
ally augmenting  enthusiasm  over  the  violin,  from  which 
he   could   not   take  his  eyes,   repeated   his  offer.     Oscar 
collected  himself  enough  to  say,  '  Yes. '     The  money  was 
l)aid,  and  he  left  instantly.      Mr.  .Strotherick  remained  for 
some  time  absorbetl  in  the  contemplation  of  his  newly- 
ac([uired  treasure,  when  he  remembered  with  a  shock  of 
vexation  that  he  had  not  asked  Oscar  for  his  name,  or  a 
dozen  other  questions  that  occurred  to  him  ;  had  not»;ven, 
so  wrai)t  up  was  he  in  the  violin,  observed  his  personal 
appearance.      O.scar's    mother  was   .soon    jirovided   with 
proper  lood  and  attention,  and  recovered  rajjidly  ;  l)ut  to 
all  her  questions  as  to  how   he  had  found  the  means,  he 
returned  the  unvarying  answer,  '  Wait  till  y(m  are  well 
and  strong,  then  I'll  tell  you  everything,'  i)raviiig  all  the 
time  that  she  might  not  remark  that  he  never  played  now. 
It  came  at  last.     Seated  one  warm  evening  at  the-  window 
of  their  little  room,  she  said,  '  Oscar,  I  long  to  hear  some 
of  the  old  tunes  ;  do  get  your  violin  and   plav  ;  it  is  so 
long  since  I   have  heard    them.'     Then,   witli    few  and 
tender  words,  he  told  her  that  her  life  was  more  to  him 
than  anything  else  in   the  world,  and  that  their  i)resent 
comforts  were  the  result  of  the  sale.     With  streaming 
e>es  the  poor  widow  fell   on   her  knees  and  grasped  his 
hand,  saying,  thniugh  her  sobs,  '  Q  tny  son,  I  know  what 
It  must  have  cost  to  make  this  sacrifice.     Ood  is  good  to 
me  that   He  gave  me  .such  a  .son  ;  He  will  reward  you, 
He  will   reward  you.'      O.scar  gently  raised   her,  saying 
he  desired  no  other  reward  than  to  see  so  dear  a  mother 
well  and   happy.     Her  health  was  .soon  so   far  restored 
that  she  was  able  to  go  out,  so  he  took  her,  one  afternoon, 
out  to  the  Park.     They  wandered  among  the  tiees,  or  sat 
watching  the  never-ending  stream  of  carriages  that  rolled 
over  the  smooth  drives,  or  the  happy  parties  that  laughed 
and  lunched  together  in  seepicstered  places.     The  fresh 
air  and  bright  sun  brought  the  smiles  again  to  the  widow's 
wan  cheek.      Rut  their  enjoyment  was   suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  a  cry  of  terror.     A  little  basket  carriage  drawn 


«r" 


138 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


by  a  spirited  pony,  driven  l)y  two  little  pirls  of  about 
twelve  and  fifteen,  left  tlie  drive,  tlie  pony  having  taken 
fright  at  something.  It  galloped  across  the  sward  towards 
the  steep  precipice  that  descends  to  the  river.  \Vilh(Mit  a 
word,  Oscar  .sprang  forward  to  intercept  him.  Reaching 
him  just  in  time,  he  gras])e(l  his  nostrils  with  one  power- 
ful hand,  the  end  of  the  shaft  with  the  other,  and  stopjjed 
him  a  few  yards  from  the  brink.  A  syni])athizing  crowd 
soon  surrounded  them.  The  frightened  children  were 
lifted  from  the  carriage  and  transferred  to  the  coach  of  an 
old  lady,  who  undertook  to  take  them  homt .  The  guards 
took  charge  of  the  pony.  (Xscar,  meanwiiile,  (piietly  made 
his  escape  umioticed  from  the  crowd  and  returned  to  his 
mother,  who,  glowing  with  jiride  and  affection,  repeated 
her  words,  '  God  is  good  ;  He  will  reward  you,  lie  wUl 
reward  you.'  Wlien  the  children  reached  their  home  and 
recounted  to  their  father,  who  was  none  other  than  Mr. 
Strolherick,  their  hairbreadth  escape  and  the  gallantry  of 
their  rescuer,  his  gratitude  knew  no  bounds.  He  at  once 
set  to  work  to  find  out  and  reward  their  preserver.  This 
was  no  ea.sy  matter,  Oscar  caring  nothing  for  reward,  and 
thinking  little  or  nothing  of  his  action.  Mr.  Strotherick 
advertised  in  vain  ;  questioned  over  and  over  again  his 
chililren,  the  Park  guards,  and  the  old  lady  who  brought 
the  children  home.  But  the  children  had  not  observed 
him,  neither  had  the  old  lady.  The  guards'  only  infor- 
mation was  that  he  was  apparently  a  working  ni.in,  very 
tall  and  strong  looking,  with  light  hair  and  blue  e}'es. 
Mr.  Strotherick  was  not  the  man  to  give  up  anything  he 
had  set  his  heart  upon,  so,  with  tliis  .slight  clue,  he 
engaged  the  services  of  a  keen  detective.  This  officer  ques- 
tioned everybody  over  again,  found  that  a  man  answering 
to  this  descriiition  and  accom'panied  by  an  elderly  wo- 
man, had  asked  some  questions  of  one  of  the  guards,  in 
broken  English,  also  that  his  clothes  were  of  a  peculiar 
foreign-looking  fashion.  Next  he  found  a  conductor  on  a 
Twentv-third  street  car,  who  had  taken  such  a  couple  to 
the  Green  street  entrance  of  the  Park.  They  got  on  his 
car  at  the  transfer  station.  He  had  particularly  observed 
them,  his  attention  being  attracted  by  their  foreign  look, 
and  the  great  height  and  apparent  strength  of  the  man. 


fe 


The  "  Scratch  Club." 


»39 


ttle  pirls  of  about 
pony  having  taken 
5  the  sward  towards 
L-  river.  Willicnit  a 
pt  him.  Reaching 
ils  with  one  power- 

otlier,  and  st()pi)ed 
yni])athizing  crowd 
ne(l  chiUlren  were 
1  to  the  coach  of  an 
lioMK .  The  guards 
ivliile,  (piietly  made 
and  returned  to  his 

affection,  repeated 
■ward  you,  lie  will 
lied  their  home  and 
one  other  than  Mr. 
11(1  the  gallantry  of 
)Uiids.  He  at  once 
ir  preserver.  This 
ling  for  reward,  and 
1.  Mr.  Strotherick 
iiid  over  again  his 
1  lady  who  brought 
1  liad  not  observed 
guards'  only  infor- 
working  man,  very 
lair  and  blue  ej'es. 
;ive  up  anything  he 
his  .slight  clue,  he 
-..  This  officer  ques- 
at  a  man  answering 
by  an  elderly  wo- 
e  of  the  guards,  in 
were  of  a  ])eculiar 
nd  a  conductor  on  a 
en  such  a  couple  to 
.  They  got  on  his 
articularly  observed 
'  their  foreign  look, 
-engtli  of  the  man. 


vSo  the  detective  thought  "  thev  must  have  come  from  the 
lower  end  of  the  cily."  His  next  step  w.is  to  ask  the 
police  in  th;;*  district  to  keep  a  clo^e  lookout  for  such  a 
man.  He  was  soon  rewarded.  An  oliicer,  whose  beat 
wa-^  ill  the  neighborhood  of  F.)urth  and  Lombard,  .saw 
Oscar  one  morning  entering  a  small  hou.se  on  iMnirtli 
street.  While  in  tlie  act  of  telling  the  detective,  O^iir 
came  out  of  the  house  ;  addressing  him  at  oiuv  the  iletec 

tue  said  :    '.Mr.    Strotherick,  at  2\(^, street  want.s  to 

.see  jou  on  important  business, and  would  like  you  to  call 
as.soon  as  possible.'   He  also  took  the  ])recauti(Mi  of  secur- 
ing ( )scar's  name  and  address.  ( )scar  set  out  at  once  to  see 
Mr,  Strotherick,  thinking  that  it  was  something  about  the 
viohn  that  he  wished  to  know.     When  he  presented  liim- 
seh  in  Mr.  Strotherick 's  office  he  was  amazed  to  lie.ir  his 
feat  recounted  to  him  with  every  e.\])re;ision  of  gratitude 
that  Mr.  Strotherick 's  warm  heart  could  suggest.     To  all 
his  offers  of  reward  (Xscar  returned  a  firm   '  Xo,'  saying 
finally,  as  he  preceived  Mr.  vStrotherick's   distress  at  hi.s 
•--lusal,  that  if  he  could  help  him    in  any  w.av  to  obtain 
work  at  his  trade  he  would   consider   himself'  more  than 
repaid.     This  Mr.  vStrotherick  jdedged  himselfto  do,  and, 
learning   that  Oscar  was  an  iron  worker,   he  exclaimed 
'  the  very  thing  '—.so   am   I— my  works   are   in    Frank- 
ford  ;  come  to-morrow.'      Oscar  returne'l  with  the  wel- 
come new.sto  his  mother,  and  they  at  once  left  their  dingy 
rooms  (m  Fourth  .street  and  removed  to  oiieoftlie  countless 
small  houses  in  the  northern  part  of  the  citv  that  justify 
Philadelphia's  boast  as  the  city  of  homes,     Oscar  went  to 
work  manfully.      His  skill  and  steadiness  soon  secured 
promotion,  and  he  became  the  tru.sted  foreman  of  his  de- 
partment.    It  happened  one  evening  after  working  hours 
that  he  had  to  call  on  Mr.  Strotherick  at  his  hou.se  in  the 
city  about  some  work  that  was  to  be  begun  on  the  follow- 
ing day.     He  was  .shown  into  the  sitting  room  to  wait 
the  departure  of  a  visitor  with  whom  Mr.  Strotherick  wa.>-' 
engaged.     There,  on  a  small  table,  in  its  open  ca.se,  lay 
hi.s  violin.     Tears  stood  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  lovingly 
at  it.     Overcome  by  an  impulse  he  could  not  control,  he 
took  it  up,  and  began  to  play  some  of  the  old  well-re- 
membered  airs.      He    was    thus    engaged    when    Mr. 


rr 


140 


r/te  "Scrxti-li  Club." 


Strotherick  opened  the  dt^or  and  stood  amazed  on  seeing 
his    foreman,    the    (iiiii-'t,    steady  K'>i"K    Oscar  slandinjjj, 
rapt,  witli  the  tears  rolHnK  down  liis  face,    drawing  snch 
wild,  i)assionate  sounds  from  the  vioHn,  as  he  Ir.ul   never 
heard  liefore.      A  moment  more,  and  a  sudden  liKht  burst 
on  him;  he  recoi;ni/ed  in  O.icar    the  man   who  sold   iiim 
llie  vioHii.      Interrupting;  him  in    his   impetuous   way,  he 
exchiimed,   '  Why  have  you  kept  this  secret,    wliy  didn't 
you  tell   me   lonj^   ago?'      Oscar   replied:    'I  knew   you 
valued  tlie  violin,  aixl  I  knew  you  would  have  want«'d  to 
i{ive  it  hack  to   me,   therefore  I  didn't  tell  you.'     At  mis 
reply  Mr.  Strotlieriok's  patience   };ave  way  utterly.     He 
stormed  at  Oscar,  half  in  jest  and   half  in  earnest,   called 
him  '  pig-he  ideil '    and  a    hundred     other   pretty    names. 
ma<le  him  tell  his  history  and   the   history    of  the  violin, 
and  in  a  greater  fum.-  than  ever  vowed  that  he  would  dis- 
charge Oscar  and  hurn  the  violin  if  he  refused  to  take  it 
again,  and  wound  up  by   shaking   Oscar  l)y  both  hands, 
.saying  with  a  quiver  of  his  lips,   '  I  owe  you  the   lives  of 
my  children ;  will   you    not   make   nie   happy  and   let  me 
mike  you  happy,    i)y    taki.ig  the   violin   again?'      Oscar 
was  not  proof  against   this  earnest   ajipeal,    and    to  Mr. 
Strotherick's  great  joy  consented  and  l)ore  off  his  treasure 
to  his  mother.     They  laughed  and  wept  together  over  its 
recovery,  the  widow   repeating   '  Did   I  not  tell  you  that 
Ood  was  good,   and  would   reward  yrm,  ;uul  He  has,  He 
has,  not  only  now,  but  will  for  all  eternity  reward  the  son 
who  gave  up,    without    a   murmur,   his    most  cheri.shed 
possession  for  the  sake  of  his  mother.'     Oscar  continued 
to  rise.      He  and  the  generous  Mr.   vStrotherick  are  warm 
friends,  and  Oscar  is  now  about  to  become  a  ])artner  in 
the  business.      Many  an  evening  'do  they  sjiend  together 
playing  on  and  discussing  the  merits  of  the  inexhaustible 
violin,  for  who  ever  knew  a  violin  player  with  a  fine  in- 
strument that  had  said  all  that   he  could  say  about  his 
violin." 

When  the  Doctor  finished  all  agreed  in  expressing  their 
thanks  for  his  story.  After  a  little  desultory  conversation 
they  .shook  each  other  warmly  by  the  hand,  with  many 
wishes  for  a  pleasant  summer  and  hopes  for  reunion  in 
the  fall,  and  the  "Scratch  Club"  was  gone. 


azed  on  seeing 

)scar  slandiii);, 

drawing;  such 
^  he  hud  never 
Ulcn  li^ht  burst 

who  sold  liim 
etuons  way,  he 
el,  wliy  di(hrt 
'  I  knew  yuu 
have  wanted  to 
I  ymi.'  At  luis 
ly  utterly.      lie 

earnest,   called 

pretty  names. 
■  of  the  violin, 
\t  he  would  dis- 
"used  to  take  it 
by  both  hands, 
^ou  the  lives  of 
ppy  and  let  me 
again  ?'  Oscar 
il,  and  to  Mr. 
;  off  his  treasure 
Dgether  over  its 
;)t  tell  you  that 
and  He  has,  He 

rew.ird  the  so!i 
most  cheri.shed 
^.scar  continued 
lierick  are  warm 
ne  a  jiartner  in 

s])end  tojrether 
le  inexhaustible 

with  a  fine  in- 
1   say   about  his 

expressing  tlieir 
ary  conversation 
ind,  witli  many 
for  reunion  in 
le. 


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